


Eternity

by NinPotato



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Dragon King Hux, Dragon Knight Kylo, Graphic Self-Harm, Graphic Violence, Hux wishes he did, Kylo has amnesia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Opposites Attract, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Soulmates, The Force Ships It, Trans Armitage Hux, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, bodyguard kylo, chapter-specific warnings provided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinPotato/pseuds/NinPotato
Summary: His royal garb was no more than a unique variation of the common officials' uniforms, woven from fine black gaberwool and embellished with gold embroidery and buttons.  These details accentuated the curved, golden horns protruding from his forehead just below his hairline. They were some sort of birth defect; he had never encountered another of his kind who retained features of their true form while disguised. With such an obviously inhuman feature, he would never have been able to fit into human society the way most other non-human sentients chose to.Hux found he didn’t care. Human society wasn’t nearly as advanced as most others, and he was no one of importance to the humans.An orphan. A freak. Awoman.Here, he was King.





	1. Empty Promises

**Author's Note:**

> In case you missed the tags _and_ the summary, Hux is a trans man in this fic. As a trans person myself, I draw from my own experiences for inspiration. However, due to the fact that I consider myself somewhere between nonbinary and a trans man, and do not personally experience body dysphoria for the most part, my Hux and his relationship with himself may seem unfamiliar or even unsettling to a highly dysphoric trans person. If you're made uncomfortable with anything, please click away. If you highly disagree with something, I'm open to discussion, but please keep in mind that I am not cisgendered myself.
> 
> Also, this is my first fic in this fandom and the only fic I've written in a verryyyyyyyy long time for any fandom, and I do not have a beta, so please do let me know if I made an error or if you find something glaringly contradictory, etc. I don't bite! 
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Just some light body horror at the beginning.  
> If you think something should be tagged that isn't, please let me know!

 

– 2472 A.S., July –

 

“This is a terrible idea,” Hux muttered as he stepped over what appeared to be the remnants of a shattered vase. 

“Oh come on, it’s just for a few minutes.  They won’t even notice we’re gone.” 

 Truth be known, they could probably explore the restricted area of the excavation site for hours without consequence:  people always turned a blind eye to Ben’s shenanigans.  The boy had a knack for disappearing and then reappearing long before anyone noticed he was gone; it was the one thing that always kept the two of them out of trouble.  It didn’t stop Hux from protesting every step of the way, however.

 “Seriously Ben, this could be dangerous.  We don’t know what’s down here.  They don’t even know what’s down here!  It’s restricted for a reason—“

 “It’s not that big of a deal.  If it was really so dangerous, they never would’ve started giving tours.  This place is only restricted ‘cause they don’t want people stealing shit.  I promise I won’t touch anything; I just want to have a quick look around.”  Ben came to a stop before a crooked and dusty painting, hand hovering just above it like he’d already forgotten his promise.

 “It’s not a big deal for you because you’re still a kid in the eyes of the law.  I just turned eighteen last week.  If we get caught, I could go to jail!"

 Ben’s focus remained on the painting, though Hux couldn’t see why.  It was every bit as interesting as the rest of the rubble they’d been wandering through.  Ben hadn’t stopped to examine the broken statue Hux had tripped on earlier. 

 Finally, Ben turned away from the painting.  “What’s our status?”

 “Trespassing, breaking the law—“

 “No.  What’s our _status_?”

 Hux heaved an incredulous sigh, but gave in as he always did.  “Best friends together, forever and ever, for all eternity.”

 It was a ridiculous phrase; one Ben had come up with when they were both small.  Upon meeting him for the first time, people tended to react towards Hux in many different ways: with fear and disgust, confusion and disbelief, or with the curiosity one might regard a strange animal.  Once they got past the glittering protrusions sticking out of his head and learned of his heritage, most tried to get better acquainted with him and his family’s wealth.  Ben was the only person Hux had ever met who never once asked him about money.  Ben’s fascination with his horns was more akin to that one might have with any common object, and the two of them only ever played at Ben’s house, where Hux felt comfortable that no one saw him as anything but an ordinary person.  So when Ben had pronounced the two of them “best friends forever,” and then later “best friends together forever” and finally “best friends together forever and ever for all eternity,” Hux hadn’t protested.  He hated hearing it out loud, but it meant something to Ben.

 “Right, and best friends always trust one another,” Ben said.  “Now, I need you to—holy shit!” 

 “What happened?”  Hux started to panic.  “Please don’t tell me you saw someone…”

 Ben was gripping that same painting with one hand, gently dusting it off with the other.  “No fucking way,” Ben almost whispered, “you have to see this.”

 Hux took a few tentative steps forward, perturbed by Ben’s tone of voice.  Ben stepped out of the way, still holding on to the edge of the painting.  With the dust cleared away, Hux could see there was a man depicted so regally he must’ve been royalty: a man with copper-red hair and a pair of curved, golden horns.

 “It’s you.”

 ---

 

– 5 B.S., October –

 

Hux blinked groggily as he awoke. He sat up slowly as his senses returned to him, almost overwhelmed by the feeling that something was…off. It was as if something or someone was there that didn’t belong. When most of the bleariness had faded, he took to examining his bedchamber as calmly as possible. There was little reason to be worried; there were at least four highly trained guards just outside, and he was far from defenseless.

 He reached for the candle he kept on his night stand and lit it with a quick snap of his fingers, illuminating the large bedchamber enough to make it impossible for anything to hide in plain view. After giving it a once-over from his bed, he took to examining the room in more detail.

 The first thing he noticed was that his silk sheets were tangled, sagging off the side of the bed and pooling onto the floor. He often woke to find them in a similar state as he tossed and turned in his sleep. Standing cautiously, he gathered as much of the bunched-up fabric as he could with his free hand and tossed it back onto the bed haphazardly.

 He then turned his gaze to the tall wardrobe on his right. He distinctly remembered leaving its doors open due to a small problem with one of the latches, and they remained as he'd left them.

 Everything on his desk seemed untouched as well; even his quill pen rested in its holder at the same angle it did when he replaced it the previous evening.

 He heard nothing but the sound of his own breathing, his bare feet on the stone floor, and that of birds chirping.

 He spun towards the window, forgetting his previous concern entirely. The birds usually began to sing at around four in the morning, which was four hours past the time he normally woke.

Hux cursed under his breath, setting the candle down on the table nearest his wardrobe with a bit more force than was necessary.

Armitage Hux was a busy man with a strict schedule. If he got off track by even a few minutes, it could ruin his plans for the entire day. Normally, he would’ve finished three hours of planning and review, his daily exercise routine, and half an hour of planning all during the time he'd just wasted sleeping in.

Perturbed by such a late start, Hux rushed to get dressed. His royal garb was no more than a unique variation of the common officials' uniforms, woven from fine black gaberwool and embellished with gold embroidery and buttons.  
The details accentuated the curved golden horns protruding from his forehead, just below his hairline. They were some sort of birth defect; he had never encountered another of his kind who retained features of their true form while disguised. With such an obviously inhuman feature, he would never have been able to fit into human society the way most other non-human sentients chose to.

Hux found he didn’t care. Human society wasn’t nearly as advanced as most others, and he was no one of importance to the humans. An orphan. A freak. A _woman._

Here, he was a King. One of four, each ruling over one of the cities named after their cardinal positions within the First Order’s domain. Hux oversaw the northern city Septentrio, the one closest to human civilization, and consequently the one with the fastest-growing population.

The Kings answered only to the Supreme Leader, an old dragon named Snoke. He was, however, more of a ceremonial figure and advisor than an actual ruler. He was also an incredible asset: having been King of the original First Order more than two thousand years ago, his insight was invaluable. Though the man rarely showed up anywhere in person, he would occasionally communicate through the use of enchanted mirrors.

Hux was scheduled to speak with the Supreme Leader tomorrow, and he hadn’t prepared at all. That was why he couldn’t be sleeping in. He’d never slept more than three hours at a time, not since he'd started-

Not since he'd started avoiding his dreams.

That’s right, it was that dream. Hux couldn't remember having a single dream over the last few years. But that morning, likely sometime after when he normally awoke, he'd had a nightmare. A very realistic nightmare at that; one that took place in a near perfect replica of his bedchamber.

Hux was no stranger to nightmares. Back when he used to sleep for longer at a time, he’d had the same one every night. The beginning was always a snippet of some pleasant memory from long ago, back when Hux was still traveling the Trail of Silence. Then there was the rather unpleasant memory of the academy president, furious over something as he usually was, and then another random memory. The details were blurry, as Hux endeavored to forget as much of it as possible.

But the ending of the dream was difficult to forget; it never changed at all. Hux was young, sprawled out on the ground, and his body wasn’t right. His limbs were distorted, the joints not where they should be, and they were covered in scales. There was something extra: a tail, maybe? His hair was too long, and there was too much of it-even in places where he shouldn’t have any.

He felt like a freak, and the faceless, shadowy figures surrounding him didn’t hesitate to call him one. They called him lots of things, none of them pleasant. Some of them true.

There was only one which didn’t participate in the verbal abuse. Much shorter than the rest, this figure stood further back from all the others. Hux would call out to it, attempt to reach for it. He knew it would never answer, that it would always leave. It didn’t matter how much he wanted it to stay, or why.

And when the small figure faded away, so did all the others. One by one, until Hux was alone. Out in the forest on the cold, damp ground. There were no birds. No insects. No wind. There was only Hux, alone and paralyzed for what felt like an eternity.

The dream Hux had that morning didn’t end like that. Everything was the same as usual up until the part with the faceless figures. Instead of the cold, empty forest, Hux was warm in his bed. There was only one figure this time, and it said nothing. Just like the small one from his other dreams. It just…watched. It stood at Hux’s bedside and watched. That was why he’d felt so unnerved upon waking.

Figuring there could be some meaning to the strange dream, Hux quickly scribed some notes onto the closest sheet of parchment paper. He’d explain the dream in full detail to Maul later. The Sith was an expert at interpreting dreams and visions; he could determine its meaning if no one else could. If it was some sort of omen or warning, Maul would know.

 

 

\---

 

“How are the mines holding up?” Hux inquired, desperate to change the subject. Mercerio had begun gushing over his “perfect ray of sunlight” almost immediately after Norabond's weekly rant had finally ended.

“Oh, they’re holding quite well as usual. Miners dug up enough Obsidian to construct another palace, in fact. You think that’d be a nice coming-of-age present for Maria?” Mercerio responded, steering the subject right back to where Hux desperately did not want it.

The problem was that these meetings were too long. Despite all the hours Hux spent daily preparing speeches and presentations, he couldn’t seem to fill all three hours. Perhaps if the others gave him even some basic input, they could keep the ball rolling for longer. But no one so much as feigned interest in continuing an actual discussion; they preferred to fill the remaining time with pointless banter instead.

Ysolda, a senior member of Hux’s high council, let out a sigh. “Leave it to Mercerio to make even obsidian about his daughter,” she muttered, far enough from the enchanted mirror on which the southern King was displayed to not be heard.

Hux heaved a sigh of his own before taking a glance at his wristwatch, one of his most useful inventions.

Someone yawned, and Sabrina shot Hux a quizzical glance from across the room.

 _Almost_ , he mouthed silently. Her gaze remained on him, unreadable. The chance that she would request a private meeting that evening was quite high, Hux could tell. Nothing the woman did was without reason. He’d known her for years, and she was probably the closest thing he had to a friend. They’d been near inseparable once, before Hux came to power. Though he’d become aware of her feelings towards him, he’d made it clear that he had neither the time nor interest in that sort of relationship. He hoped that whatever she wanted wasn’t something personal.

“What do girls do for their coming-of-age celebrations outside the Order?” Mercerio asked, derailing Hux’s previous train of thought. While he hadn’t exactly been listening, it was obvious the question was directed at him. A few scattered officials shifted in their seats, focusing their attention on Hux once more.

Unfortunately for them, Hux despised his past and avoided speaking of it any more than he had to. The northern lands were chaotic and dangerous, and the humans didn’t bother to hide their contempt for other sentient beings. That was why Hux did everything in his power to make Septentrio a true place of refuge; a safe place for those who faced persecution at the hands of the inferior species.

“I honestly don’t know.” Hux answered, hoping it would be accepted at face value. But then, for the first time that meeting, King Harold spoke.

“That’s hardly surprising. I’ve heard the dragons up north tend to be wary of those outside their circles, even other dragons. Especially other dragons, in fact.” Harold paused for a moment as he made eye contact with Hux, then smirked. “You can never really distinguish a curious outsider from the Indoctrinated.”

Hux grit his teeth, but kept his mouth shut. Harold would sometimes, out of nowhere, raise an intriguing point, and then explain it only halfway. Eventually, someone would ask for clarification. It was bait, and Hux didn’t plan on taking it.

“The…Indoctrinated? That sounds ominous,” said Norabond. Sabrina shifted nervously, fixing Hux with a look of discomfort. Almost like she was the one Harold was trying to embarrass or get a rise out of. Hux felt a new wave of disgust as he caught an official actually preparing to take notes out of the corner of his eye, despite taking none while he gave his earlier speech on interspecies violence.

“You care to elaborate?” Mercerio asked with a raised eyebrow, seemingly aware of where this was going.

“Oh, it’s all very hush-hush. Took ages to get it out of a young lad from Meridian…”

“Just spill it already, Harold! We haven’t got all day,” Norabond demanded.

“Alright, alright. They say there’s a secret…academy of sorts, just north of Meridian. Or so that’s what they want everyone to think it is. Called Arkanis.”

Hux felt his stomach drop. It was no coincidence: a refugee from the northeastern human province of Meridian, relocating to Occiden instead of the much closer Orienti or Septentrio, who knew of a secret so heavily guarded by dozens, maybe even hundreds of the most powerful human sorcerers and political figures, just so happened to-what, decide to share gossip material with a King? The extent to which Harold would go just to spread unpleasant rumors about Hux was unbelievable! He’d never been anything but cordial with the other man, and that was his payment.

“I’ve been told it’s more of a…containment facility for non-humans than a school. And that it’s the reason why the dragons up north keep to themselves. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person, give yourself away, and you wake up the next morning to find that your children are gone. Vanished.”

There were a few low murmurs amongst the officials. Sabrina, her gaze on Hux once again, looked pale as a ghost. Hux imagined he looked about the same. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to smash Harold’s mirror or turn tail and run. Slowly, he shot a glance at his wristwatch. Fifteen minutes left.

Harold showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“They say those children are being groomed for war. That they’re being turned against their own kind, then put under the command of the Jedi.” Harold turned his gaze back onto Hux. “They’ve said that the academy’s president… “

Suddenly, Harold’s image disappeared from the mirror, and they were all left with a perfectly normal reflection of the room. Hux gave a sigh of relief as the room became filled with confused chatter. He looked towards the back of the auditorium, a wordless question in his expression. Sabrina gave him a small, nervous smile and nodded in return as she retracted her hand from where it was extended beneath the table.

Hux allowed the chaos to continue for the rest of the meeting, too shaken to suggest they make use of their remaining time. After a few minutes, everyone decided that lunch was more important and began eagerly filtering out of the auditorium. Hux motioned for his steward Mitaka to gather his things from the podium and return them to his quarters as he watched the last of the officials trickle out.

“Tonight?” Sabrina asked once she’d reached the doors where Hux had been waiting.

Hux nodded. “I’ll inform you if someone else makes a request.”

The two spent the short walk to the mess hall in silence. At one point, Sabrina’s hand reached towards him, but it was quickly retracted. Hux chose to ignore the action.

Upon reaching their destination, Hux was pleased to see that Maul was already seated in his designated spot at the center dining table, which was directly across from Hux’s. Phasma, captain of the city guard, was notably absent, as the seat to Maul’s right was vacant. To his left was Veracio, the Secretary of the Treasury, who was currently engaged in a heated discussion with the Chief Advisor. Sabrina took a seat at the far-right end of the table.

 _I sense you have need of my assistance._ Maul’s voice echoed in his mind.

 _You are correct._ Hux sent.  
The king had a unique bond with his sith. While Maul could project thoughts and visions into the mind of any sentient being he wanted, Hux was the only non-force-user who could do the same in return. Maul had suggested they establish this bond early on as it was an excellent form of communication as well as a means by which they could earn one another’s trust.

“Mitaka. My notes, if you will.” Hux gestured towards Maul as he took his seat.

“Yes, your highness.” Mitaka placed Hux’s hastily written notes on the table before them. “Will you be having the usual?”

“Indeed.” It could be difficult feeding so many different species of sentients in the same room at the same time. The very scent of just a pinch of garlic seasoning could ruin a vampire’s day. Most dragons were omnivorous and therefore perfectly content with human-style food, but Hux was not one of them. Raw meat was the only thing he could stomach. Maul, an exceptionally rare Zabrak, was in the same boat.

“I’ll have a horse haunch,” Maul spoke aloud, drumming his claws on the table as he scrutinized the notes before him.

“Of course, sir.” Mitaka bowed and took his leave.

Hux watched the Sith expectantly, giving him plenty of time to thoroughly read everything he’d written. Maul’s expression was unreadable by the time he made it to the end of the page, and Hux felt himself growing nervous the longer he remained silent.

_Well…?_

Finally, Maul met Hux’s gaze, sliding the notes back to him. _It’s a bit vague._

 _I wouldn’t require your assistance if it wasn’t._ Hux retorted.

_These…people. Their identities are unknown to you, I presume? The shadows._

_Yes._

_Every one of them?_ Maul pressed, digging into his meal as soon as it was in front of him.

 _Yes…?_ Hux repeated, confused and a bit envious of how unabashed the Zabrak was. Something primal within Hux wanted to tear meat from the bone with his teeth the way the Zabrak currently was. But he quashed the urge every time it arose; cut his own meal into small pieces using his silverware instead.

 _You are haunted by your past_ , Maul sent after a long pause. Hux nearly choked.

_These shadows, Maul continued, are reminiscent, at least in appearance, of the Animamea._

_The what?_

_The Animamea. They are a type of spirit, bound to the afterlife, yet still capable of crossing over into the world of the living for brief periods of time._

_They’re visiting me in my dreams?_ Hux knew little about the afterlife. He wasn’t a very religious person, though he had nothing against those who were.

_Perhaps. Perhaps not. The Animamea normally only visit those who they have a strong connection with, that they know from the past when they were alive. Though there is one exception. A powerful force user, one capable of creating force illusions, could…implant one._

_So, which is it?_ Hux asked, though he already knew the answer.

Maul swallowed the last enormous bite of his meal, then nonchalantly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Hux hadn’t even finished half of his own.

_There is no way of knowing. Not at this point. Pay close attention to your dreams from now on._

“I will,” Hux said aloud.

 

\---

 

 That afternoon’s open forum was rather uneventful; perhaps even more so than usual. Only four citizens showed up; all vampires, evidently displeased with the quality of the city’s blood supply.

Besides the four major cities, there were several smaller towns and villages within the First Order’s borders. These settlements were populated mostly by humans; some being left to their own devices, so long as they worked and didn’t violate any laws, while others were kept as servants or livestock.

Hux would prefer there not be any humans within their territory, but he understood the necessity of keeping them close. Vampires were one of just several species reliant on humans for their own survival, and the very idea of forcing a werewolf or chimera to farm or mine just didn’t feel right.

It had been suggested, quite some time ago, that the vampires collect their own blood as they would outside the First Order. After all, the blood was always better when the human bled willingly and vampires were masters of persuasion and seduction. Those currently tasked with the collection, however, were not.

After listening to their complaints, Hux politely informed the vampires of the full situation as he saw it. This only seemed to irritate them further, and both sides argued in circles for the full hour. By the end of it, Hux was immensely glad he hadn’t allotted any more time for the forum. He was just seconds away from becoming rather unprofessional with the vampires, who seemed to believe that his people had plenty of time to wine and dine the unwilling humans until their blood was satisfactory.

Those four had probably faced little if any persecution, and had obviously never experienced true hunger. A starving vampire was a force to be reckoned with, and would never forget the experience.

They were spoiled beyond belief, but Hux found he preferred that over the alternative. He himself had nearly starved to death during one of the darkest periods of his life, and he wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone. Except Harold, perhaps.

Hux turned the corner, just grazing the edge of a polished stone wall, and there was Sabrina, waiting for him outside his chambers. Hux suddenly found he would gladly talk circles around a few dissatisfied vampires for a bit longer.

Sabrina lifted her head as he approached. “Your majesty.”

“Sabrina. Go on in,” he ushered, holding open one of the heavy steel doors until she entered. “What is it you would like to discuss?”

Sabrina hesitated just inside, hands clasped at the small of her back. Her gaze drifted across Hux’s central living space, focusing on nothing. She sighed softly before leaning against an end table, dragging her fingertips lightly across its surface as if inscribing a secret message.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

_No. Never._

“Of course. Why do you ask?” Hux answered with a neutral tone. He had anticipated that to some degree.

“We don’t speak much anymore. Not even about work. Sometimes, I feel like you’re avoiding me intentionally.”

“Sabrina, I can assure you I would never avoid you. I’m just busy, that’s all. You should know that.”

Sabrina’s fingertips stopped their tracing as she met Hux’s eyes, her own full of something Hux couldn’t name. “I know,” she started, “that you’re not nearly as busy as you think you are.”

Now that caught him off guard. “What do you- “

“I know,” she continued, “that you spend at least three hours on everything worth an hour of work at most. I know that you read and re-read speeches you already memorized months before you planned on giving them. I know that you never stop working, even when there is no work to be done. You’re not as busy as you think you are.”

Hux’s jaw dropped. That was almost the opposite of what he expected to hear, especially after what happened at the meeting that morning. He thought she’d question his well-being, then attempt to soothe him. Like she used to, back when it was just the two of them. Though there was no benefit in staying with him, Sabrina did. She never stopped trying. Once Hux had finally begun to show signs of recovering from the _incident_ , she agreed to never speak of it again. Though they had made plenty of great memories, nearly every one of them was connected to the cause of Hux’s…condition, for lack of a better term. He wasn’t sure he knew of a Common word for “the moment when everything falls apart and hope is but a foreign concept,” which would be something like “Rraaakikku” in Drrrkong.

Sabrina hadn’t just agreed to never speak of the past again, she had promised him that they would both forget it ever happened, that she would find something to keep them busy, and yet Hux was hit with the overwhelming feeling that she was about to break at least one of those promises.

“Do you know how I know these things?” Sabrina asked, her voice no more than a soft, small whisper. “I know because I’m also not as busy as you think. An hour or two reading and responding to reports, sometimes a couple hours of introducing people to their new homes, and three entire hours of you trying to stretch a small amount of material further than it can go. I have nothing else to do, and so I watch you. Every day, for the past few years. I tell myself, it’s only a matter of time, he must take a break at some point. But you never do!”

Hux thought she understood. It was her idea, wasn’t it?

…was it? He couldn’t remember. Were they even friends? He couldn’t say for sure. He tried to remember, to draw an image in his mind.

There was only a shadowy, faceless figure.

Sabrina stepped forward, completely unaware, and took one of Hux’s now trembling hands into her own. “I know why you keep yourself busy. I know why you don’t want to think, to remember what happened. I was there. I know what it did to you.”

 _No, you don’t! You never did_ , Hux wanted to scream, but his voice felt trapped in his throat. He was starting to sweat. If she knew just how much it affected him, they wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. Someone once said that time healed all wounds. Hux would gladly show them one it didn’t.

“But you have to… “Hux tore his hand out of Sabrina’s grasp, no longer willing to listen. Sabrina stopped short, surprised by the sudden action, then spoke again. “Armie, I…”

“Don’t _ever_ call me that again!” Hux shouted. Upon seeing the fear on Sabrina’s face, he turned his back, suddenly short of breath. “Leave,” he ordered, though it was hardly a whisper. He hoped she could hear it. He didn’t want to tell her again. He didn’t know if he could.

There was just a moment of silence before Sabrina took her leave, the fading sound of her hurried footsteps leaving Hux feeling empty.


	2. Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got this out quicker than I thought I would. I guess I can try to get a chapter out every two weeks, though they might not always be ~4k.
> 
> Chapter Warnings (See End Notes for details):  
> Extreme Denial  
> An Almost-Panic-Attack (?)  
> Mild Body Horror (again-shapeshifting)  
> Wild Animal Abuse? (deer)  
> A Bit of Gore  
> A Somewhat Transphobic Comment That Is Immediately Taken Back

Hux didn’t sleep that night.  He knew he could if he tried, but there was something that had to be taken care of first.  Harold had been interrupted yesterday, but he was sure to continue where he left off tomorrow.  If Hux was correct in his assmuptions, Harold was going to accuse him of being related to the academy’s president, which could then generate rumors that Hux himself was part of some covert operation up north.

Both Brendol and Hux had the same shade of ginger-red hair and jade eyes, but that was about as far as the resemblance went.  They shared the same last name, but not for the reason most people would suspect.  Hux was an orphan; abandoned, or possibly even _sold_ to the academy.  His real parents didn’t even bother to give him a name at birth. 

It was obvious Brendol Hux didn’t give a damn about him or anything that happened to him, so Hux wasn’t sure why he’d been given the name.  He was isolated from all the other children at the academy, despite being made to study the same things the girls did.  He rarely spoke to anyone other than his nursemaid and, if he was incredibly unlucky, Brendol himself.  

Besides, Hux was a pure-blooded dragon and stood at around ten meters tall and fifteen meters long, nearly twice the size of most.  He was also quadrupedal rather than bipedal, like the dragons he'd read stories about when he was small.   Hux’s family, wherever and whoever they were, must have descended from a pure, ancient lineage untainted by human blood. 

Only a human would run an organization like Arkanis.  He and Brendol couldn’t possibly be related.

Regardless, he'd prefer not to be part of such a conspiracy theory. Even in a society full of outcasts, those who didn't quite fit in were subject to curious scrutiny, which could then lead to the discovery of things best left undiscovered.

Hux needed a plan-and fast. He cleared his desk of everything but pen and paper, took note of the time, and sat. Ink dripped slowly onto the parchment, but the pen itself didn't make contact. Hux couldn't keep focus, his mind strayed constantly from the task at hand. The memory of the earlier incident with Sabrina crept into his thoughts and refused to leave.

Despite having every bit of confidence in his ability to avoid disaster, Hux was feeling nauseated and anxious.  He knew from experience that he would remain so for an indefinite period of time, unless he found some sort of outlet. Frustrated, he released his grip on the pen, crushed and useless as it was. The urge to flip the desk, then change form and fly off into the night was powerful-and perhaps not such a bad idea. A bit of fresh air never harmed anyone, and Hux hadn't been hunting in years. He'd have to omit the part where he changed form, though: Septentrio wasn't ready for that, and neither was he. 

Hux rummaged through his storage room until he found his old bow and quiver.  Unwilling to deal with the guards, he shoved a large desk over to the side, cringing at the horrid scraping noise it made and revealing the trap-door hidden beneath it. It hadn't seen much use since the crowning ceremony, after which Hux had been desperate for some means of escape that didn't involve incapacitating someone. The sewers were dark, damp, and putrid, but Hux didn’t mind. What waited for him at the other side was worth a short venture through the bowels of the city. 

Once he was out in the open again, Hux took a moment to truly appreciate the fresh evening air.  The air back in the palace was rather stale in comparison, and the way the cool breeze dusted his hair across his face was nostalgic of a time when he was one with the wilderness. That small bit of remembrance, more an abstract feeling than a memory, was like the putrid leftovers the kitchen servants routinely tossed out.

As inconsequential as they seemed; they drew all manner of pests which learned to return time and time again for a free meal. The more leftovers that were thrown out, the fatter and bolder the pests grew, until they became a real hazard. That was why he'd stopped tossing pleasant memories to the forefront of his mind. The pesky thoughts which accompanied those memories had become much too large, having been left to grow and fester for so long. But if he continued to ignore them, they would continue to grow-perhaps until they devoured every bit of pleasantness that remained. Having thoroughly frightened himself, Hux shook his head, dislodging those thoughts, and concentrated on the present.

Hux trudged through the forest, following the discreet markers he'd placed on some of the trees many months back. They led him to a small clearing just far enough from the city that it couldn't be seen from even the tallest tower of the palace, a secret place Hux occasionally visited when he needed a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. At one edge of the clearing, there stood three trees which formed an almost perfect line; each with a simple three-ringed target painted on the side which faced the rest of the open space. Hux was a good shot, once. He'd tried all sorts of weapons during his youth, but he found that none of them could compare to the bow. It was elegant, efficient, and not so unnecessarily ornate as a broadsword or an axe.   After all those years without so much as looking at a bow, he would probably need some additional time to warm up.

Apparently, he'd overestimated himself.  His first two shots missed the center tree entirely, the third just barely grazing the tree on the left, which he hadn't been aiming for.  The fourth one, again, completely missed. Angered, Hux threw the bow to the side and dropped to the ground. He crossed his legs underneath him and hung his head, squeezed his eyes shut and willed his mind to empty itself completely. He became aware of his ragged breathing first, then of the wind which had picked up speed. Once his breathing became something closer to normal, he opened his eyes and brought his hands to his face. They were trembling. The bow had only helped to stress Hux even further. Was there no option, then? Was he doomed to repeat the same mistake, again and again? Letting his worries fester and rot until they poisoned his entire being, until nothing could cure him but the act of unleashing his poison on everything and everyone around him? Until he was content that all around him were just as toxic towards him as he felt to himself?

There was a loud crunch, a snap, a hollow groaning, and then a crash. Hux was brought back to the present by the unanticipated cacophony. He blinked once, then twice, at the fallen tree before him.

"What...?" Hux was suddenly aware of his posture; tense and uncomfortable as it was. His right arm remained outstretched-fingers elongated, curled viciously and ending in sharp talons, poised to attack. His pale skin had been covered by a thin sheet of copper scales. Shocked, Hux took a timid step back and dropped that arm before inspecting the other. It too was covered in scales.

On occasion, if Hux tried to change form while under intense stress, the transformation would end just partway through, leaving him with a distorted body that was neither human nor dragon, but somewhere in between. His mind, also somewhere between both forms, couldn't process the phenomenon, and so his subconsciousness took over. He wasn't aware of his own actions while in that hybrid form, and he often forgot much of the experience when he returned to normal. Hux was certain that he had never been fully aware of the botched transformation as it happened. And yet...

Hux took to investigating the fallen tree. Sure enough, there were all manner of shallow, jagged cuts near the base of the trunk where it split. An unexpected bubble of laughter escaped him-he could only imagine what the scene must have looked like if anyone had been unlucky enough to see it: a deranged humanoid tearing a tree apart with his bare hands like it had murdered his entire family.

He looked at his arms again, tugged on his sleeves a bit to see how far the scales went. They appeared to stop at his elbow.

Not far enough.

Hux felt a sudden rush of excitement. Who needed arrows or blades when they had the strength of a dragon in their hands?

All of the other halfway transformations seemed to coincide with intense stress directly related to harrowing circumstances, but Hux wasn't in any danger when he attacked the tree. He was just trying not to remember...

That was the key: his memories. That must be it. Being caught in a dangerous situation with no means of escape caused the unconscious transformation, but what about the mere memory of such a situation? Hux avoided reminiscing about the past for a reason-it caused him physical and emotional pain that was too great to withstand for long periods of time. It caused him to shut down and withdraw, to force himself into an endless loop of suffering. It was always up to Sabrina to pull him out from it...

Hux flinched as his upper arms started to burn-just enough to be annoying but not painful. He pulled his left sleeve up as far as he could, accidentally ripping it a bit in the process, to see that the scales had made it almost up to his shoulder. He was definitely onto something.

Hux had always been ignoring his darkest feelings, mostly out of fear that they would prevent him from functioning normally. He never realized it before, but keeping everything so tightly wadded up until it was almost too much to bear was probably the reason why the inevitable release was so detrimental. Perhaps he should try taking everything in stride; dealing with those emotions as they came up instead of letting them all bash him into defeat later on. Perhaps what he needed at that moment was a destructive release, out in the forest where no one would see or hear it.

Hux took a deep breath, and then he let his thoughts drift. He didn't steer them in any particular direction; he didn't try to prevent them from touching certain areas. Nothing was off limits.

First, he thought of Brendol. Hux had cleanly removed a rich client's finger with his teeth, and since the client had reassured them that his money wasn't going elsewhere, Brendol had decided that a swift beating was punishment enough. Hux was still small, so he wasn't able to move comfortably for days afterward. He wasn't sure what was more annoying: the pain, or the unnecessary coddling he received from his nursemaid who refused to leave him be.

He thought of that morning when he woke to find that he was alone, abandoned in an unfamiliar forest. He ran through the trees for hours, calling his friend's name. There was never a response, and Hux found himself even more lost and alone. He should have waited, but he was a stupid child. He never found his way back.

He thought of the looks on the villagers' faces when they found him in that boy's hut, all mangled and broken. It was the first time his transformation stopped halfway through, and he must've been quite the disturbing sight. They were screaming; either at him or because of him, he wasn't sure. Someone called him a demon. Someone dragged him away. The boy was gone, and Hux never saw him again.

He thought of starvation. What it felt like, how it made him look, and how he acted because of it. Time passed by agonizingly slowly. Hours, days, weeks, months, years...

For a brief moment, Hux stopped. He didn't want to think about what followed.

He took a deep breath and let his thoughts continue. He thought of the first time someone looked at him without disgust again. Someone who looked at his emaciated form-dull eyes, discolored scales, disheveled mane, ridged horns, blunt claws, protruding bones, tired soul-and spoke to him as an equal. Someone he recognized. Someone he grew to love.

Hux paused again when something wet touched his hand. His vision was blurred-when did he start crying? Something within him screamed for him to stop, for him to beg Sabrina to make it end. She always refused, told him she didn't know how. Hux knew she could learn, so why didn't she? Maybe she thought Hux would get over it some day. That he would finally be able to look back on everything that happened and appreciate the good memories as much as he rejected the bad ones. Maybe he could. He had to try.

He thought of the friends he made on his travels. He thought of Sabrina and her sister, of the vampires, and everyone else. He also thought of the day it all ended; the day they were betrayed. The day he found their bodies strewn about like they'd crossed paths with a whirlwind of death, and that whirlwind was...

A piercing screech sliced through the calm of the night. Hux flung himself forward, not quite kneeling, chest heaving up and down with his breath. He tasted iron, and his throat felt raw. That sound wasn't human. His posture wasn't, either.

 _"Krrrrrrhoet."_ Hux cursed, surprised to find that his human vocal chords hadn't butchered the pronunciation. The word came out as a proper low, vibrating rumble. He checked his arms again, and they were different-longer, and unnaturally so. He made to stand again, and he felt there was an extra joint somewhere. His pants felt tighter around the knee-no, ankle? He had a tail as well, emerging from his lower back just high enough that it was relatively easy to free it from his clothes. He stretched a bit, then grinned at his success.

"Time for a test drive," Hux muttered, pleased by the uncharacteristically deep, rich sound of his own voice. He took off at breakneck speed, faster than he thought he ever could. He laughed, exhilarated as the trees began to blur-except they didn't really, his eyesight was improved-and he dropped down on all fours, giddy because it didn't decrease his speed like it should have.

When he grew tired of running aimlessly, he began to hunt. His already acute senses made it too easy. He scaled trees and snapped at roosting birds. He tackled unsuspecting prey with incredible force before sinking his fangs into their throats, taking no more than a few bites of fresh meat before leaving the corpses to the scavengers. He set traps, chased deer from their nightly grazing grounds, used his incredible speed to chase them right back again. Over and over until they grew tired and collapsed, when he could prance right up to them and pry a leg off for a snack on-the-go.

It really was too easy. Slaughtering helpless woodland creatures quickly became about as exciting as watching leaves blow in the wind.

Bored, Hux let the animals be and took to wandering aimlessly again. Before long, he could hear the telltale gurgling of a stream nearby. It undoubtedly fed into the Liberico river further south. Hux hadn't been to the river in ages, so he followed the sound, barely aware of the way his ears flicked about and rotated towards the noise. The further he went, the louder it became until it was replaced by the roaring of a large waterfall. The sight Hux was left with after he reached the edge of the forest was nothing short of spectacular. The waterfall was easily the largest Hux had ever seen; there was at least a twenty-meter drop, littered with hundreds of jagged stones at the bottom.

Once Hux had his fill of the waterfall, he clambered his way down the treacherous slope to the riverbank. Perhaps a bit too excited, he missed a step and his foot slipped. His quick reflexes weren't quick enough, and Hux pitched forward, nearly tumbling into the river.

He recovered, growling with annoyance as he tried to wipe the mud off his face before noticing a distinct footprint in the mud just next to where his face had landed.

There was a bear nearby.

In southern Embarron, the bears were larger and more aggressive than their northern cousins. They faced little competition for food and had no natural predators themselves, and therefore no reason to fear any strange creature that wandered into their territory. Their pelts were also worth a pretty penny, not that Hux cared. He just wanted something _exciting._

Hux abandoned the river as quickly as he’d found it, following the tracks along the riverbed as far as he could. He relied on his other senses to guide him once they disappeared.  Thankfully, he didn't need to go far.  He was barely within the trees again when he could hear the grunting and snorting of a bear.  His anticipation began to build up as the source of the noise came into view. 

The bear’s back was turned to him as he approached, perfect for a sneak attack.

Except Hux had no intention of being stealthy.  “ _Hhhferie miraaai rrrolangh!_ ” Hux shouted, though it was nothing but a wordless roar to the ears of everything with no dragon blood in its veins.

The bear turned, finding him quickly as he made no attempt to hide.  The two merely watched one another for a bit, though Hux crept slowly closer.  Deciding he was close enough, the bear reared up on its hind legs and gave an impressive roar.  Hux dashed for it, using his incredible speed to catch it off guard.  The bear stumbled back a bit and batted at him, just missing his left shoulder.  The two took turns swiping at each other; and after dealing substantial damage himself, Hux failed to move out of the way in time as the bear clamped its jaws around his left arm.  Hux screeched in pain and tried to force it off with his other arm, but it was useless.  The bear had no intention of releasing him.   

Dragons were capable of regrowing limbs, but it was a slow and painful process that Hux would rather avoid.  While the bear continued gnawing on his arm and dragging him along the ground, Hux focused the flaming energy deep within him into his right hand.  Without the sun to bolster his powers, he couldn’t produce enough flames to cause any serious damage, but he would gladly take anything.  As he felt his biceps beginning to tear, Hux shoved his right hand into the bear’s face and let loose a small explosion of sparks.  Finally, he was released. 

The bear stumbled backward, shaking its head from side to side and grunting.  It stood on its hind legs again as it wiped at its eyes, probably blinded.  Hux took advantage of his low position while the bear was distracted.  He crept closer to the bear and tilted his head down towards the ground, then flung his entire body upward and back, impaling the bear’s vulnerable underbelly with his horns.  It roared in pain, swatting aimlessly at Hux’s head.  He remained still until its movements ceased, then pulled back, fresh viscera spilling out of the gaping wounds he’d inflicted.  The carcass fell on top of him, punching the air right out of his lungs and drenching him in its blood.  With his last remaining strength, Hux shoved it off to the side and heaved a deep breath, content with his victory.

He lay there on his back for a moment, watching the stars as he subconsciously shifted back to his normal human form.   Minus his severely damaged left arm, he felt better than he had in years. Perhaps if he had known how cathartic that whole process was, he would have tried it much earlier. He felt calm and unrestricted, but something told him that peace wouldn't last for long.

 

 

\---

 

Immediately upon reaching the palace again, Hux noticed that something was wrong.  The door of his storage room was open, as was the main entrance to his bedchamber.  The guards that normally stood watch outside were missing.  Treading cautiously, Hux examined the chamber.  It didn’t seem as if anything was tampered with; not even the hidden trap-door.  Whoever came through must not have been a thief. 

They must have been looking for him.

Hux’s heart started pounding like it was trying to escape his chest.  Was it an assassin?  In all his time as king and even before, he’d never encountered one.  Hux’s promotion was well-received, and he was certain he hadn't made any significant enemies.  King Harold had always enjoyed getting under Hux’s skin, likely jealous of his achievements, but the man had no reason to want him dead.

“Pull yourself together,” he told himself.  A single assassin was hardly a problem, especially if Hux saw them coming.  Gathering his courage, Hux ventured out into the hallway.  There were no windows in this part of the building, but the halls were illuminated by dozens of lumium crystals mounted on pedestals along both sides.  It was deathly quiet; the guards normally posted at the winding staircase were also absent.  What was going on?

Figuring _someone_ would be in the main hall, if anyone was around at all, Hux took the stairs down to the first level. 

“Where are the others?!”  Someone, presumably a guard, shouted from a distance.

“I told you, there _are_ no others!  I’m the master of the Knights of Ren, you imbecile!”  Another equally angry yet somewhat muffled voice shouted.

Hux stopped where he was.  A knight of Ren?  In the palace?  It was rather unlikely.  The Knights of Ren were essentially Snoke’s bodyguards, and so they rarely left his side.  In a hypothetical situation where a Knight did show up at the palace, Snoke would surely give some sort of warning beforehand.  The man claiming to be a Knight was either incredibly stupid, or there was something wrong with the Supreme Leader.

Hux rounded the corner and entered the main hall.  All the missing guards, as well as a few others, were present.  They all stood around what Hux presumed was the potential assassin, though his view of the man was mostly blocked by one of the guards.

“You must truly think me daft if you expect me to believe that,” the guard continued.  “The force and I are well acquainted; I know you mind-tricked Augustine and Vaermina to open the gate for you. They wouldn’t let you in without a written invitation, which you obviously don't carry. “

“I don’t need an _invitation!_   I answer directly to the Supreme Leader-or do his orders mean nothing now?!”

“The Supreme Leader himself agreed to the- “

The guard stopped short as he noticed Hux’s approach.  His expression quickly became one of abject horror, as did those of the other guards as they all focused their attention on Hux.  The only one not staring was the intruder; a rather bulky man who was kneeling with his hands in the air, dressed in ragged black robes and a sinister-looking helmet.

Confused by their reactions, Hux slowed his approach. 

“Your Highness! Are you-what happened?!  Were you attacked?!”

“Was I-what? No! I mean, yes.  By a Bear.  But most of this blood isn’t mine; I’ll be fine.”  Hux briefly checked the state of his clothing and mentally admonished himself.  Between the damage inflicted by both his transformation and the bear, he looked like a walking corpse. 

“…a bear?”

 “That's…a story for another time.  I believe there are more pressing issues at hand.”  Hux gestured towards the intruder.

 “Ah-yes, Your Highness.  For a moment there we thought perhaps this one had been a distraction; that his friends had found another way in.  I sent six of my men to your chambers, only for them to return empty-handed.”

“As I said, it’s a story for another time, mister…”

“Marco.  My name is Marco, sir.”  The Ysalamirian guard gave a small bow, then turned back towards their mystery guest.  “This man claims to be a member- “

“ _Master_ ,” the stranger hissed.

“-of the Knights of Ren,” Marco continued,” and yet he has so far failed to provide a written invitation or any other tangible evidence of his position and has unlawfully utilized the force to grant himself entry to the palace.”

“He’s also human,” added a young woman with red eyes and pointed ears.  She stared down at the self-proclaimed knight, wrinkling her nose with disgust.  “His stench arrived a bit before him.”

Within the blink of an eye, the man was on his feet, lunging at her with inhuman speed, sword already in hand.  The other guards immediately raised their weapons, but they were too slow.  His blade was already at her throat.

“Lower your weapons, all of you!”  Hux panicked.  The guards followed the order, but the mysterious man's blade remained where it was.  The woman turned a wide-eyed stare onto Hux; a wordless plea.   “Let her go, and we’ll give you another chance to explain yourself.”

“I was told to speak with you immediately upon arriving.” Even then, as he addressed Hux directly, the man remained facing forward.  “But you didn’t show up until now.”

Hux got the feeling that was an accusation, somehow.  He would’ve laughed in any other situation.  Instead, he moved closer; cautiously, as if he were approaching some timid animal.

“Look, we can...”  Hux trailed off as he was hit by an inexplicable wave of calm.  Suddenly, the whole situation seemed far less drastic.  Whatever the feeling was, it wasn’t logical. 

The previously enraged man lowered his blade, finally turning to face Hux.  “My name is Kylo Ren, and I am - “

Hux stepped into the Knight’s personal space and leaned forward, briefly sniffing at him.  His scent was overwhelmingly human, but underneath it was a hint of something else, so subtle it was easy to miss.  “You’ve dragon blood in you,” Hux stated rather than questioned.  He was more than familiar with that unique scent.

Kylo took a step back.  “I’m not human.”

“Yes, I believe we’ve established that.  Why have you arrived at such an unusual hour?  Is there some sort of emergency?”

Kylo remained silent for a moment, as if unsure how to answer.  “Not exactly, no.  I was simply ordered to speak with you as quickly as possible.   Preferably in private.”

“Now wait just a moment.  I’m still not sure you can be trusted; after all, the Supreme Leader has always given advanced notice before sending someone over, and we've been given nothing of the sort,” Hux explained.

“Perhaps he didn’t deem it important enough,” was what the man said, but Hux was skilled at reading between the lines.  He was implying that Hux himself wasn’t important enough.

How immature.

Hux peered at the dark visor for a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other man's eyes. When no such sight was allowed, Hux swallowed his pride and conceded.  “We’ll speak in my chambers, then.  Follow me.” 

Marco stepped forward, pure disbelief on his face.  “Sir, you can’t just – “

Hux held a hand up, indicating that he best stop there.  “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I believe that I, as King in my own palace, am not to be lectured by a mere guard on what I _can_ or _cannot_ do.   You’re all to return to your stations.”

Marco’s nostrils flared, but he didn't protest.  “Yes, Your Highness.”

Hux then led Kylo to his chambers in silence, that strange air of calm following him all the way. It was nothing like what he felt out in the forest; there was a tinge of something unnatural to the newer sensation.   He didn't mind it, but he wasn't sure if it was safe.  Was Kylo Ren the source of it?  If so, it was possible he was making a grave mistake. However, he found it unlikely that he was being influenced by the force. Hux and the Knight had been less than a meter away from Marco when the feeling emerged.  As it was, Marco was likely the only of the palace guards who could subdue a force user, thanks to his own Ysalamirian genetics.  The force was a fearsome weapon; in fact, it was regarded by many as the highest form of magic.  Strangely enough, it was most common among humans and demihumans, and most uncommon amongst dragons, gryffins, and most other flying nonhumans.  Hux had never known a pureblooded dragon who could use the force.

“After you.”  Hux gestured towards the double doors once they’d reached their destination. 

Kylo made an unnecessary show of opening them with a quick wave of his hand, then stepped inside.  Hux followed him in, closing the doors behind them.  He looked towards Kylo expectantly, but the knight said nothing, continuing to stare straight forward.  Perhaps he really had made a terrible mistake. 

Hux cleared his throat.  “You said you needed to speak with me in private.  This is as private as it gets, so speak.”

He was answered with an uncomfortably long silence before Kylo turned towards him.  “You said something?”

Hux frowned.  What was the man’s problem?  They’d just met, and Hux had saved him from being thrown into the dungeon.  He should be thanking him, not trying to frighten him, or whatever the hell it was he was trying to do.  Thanks to that strange sense of calm permeating the air, both the attempt at belittling Hux and the attempt at intimidation fell flat.  Hux should’ve been angry, but he was no more than confused and perhaps a bit annoyed.  

Unwilling to play Kylo’s game, Hux took a glance at his watch.  It was eight minutes past midnight.  He looked back up just in time to see Kylo stagger to the side a bit, then catch himself.

“How long has it been since you last slept?” Hux asked. Kylo looked as though he was incapable of standing for much longer.

“That’s a good question.  I’m not entirely sure.  What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“Fuck.”

Hux made a face at the unnecessary expletive, resisting the urge to berate him for his foul language, which would be especially ridiculous considering Hux did nothing when the man nearly committed murder.

“Do you even remember what you were meant to tell me?”  Hux asked, equally as concerned as he was annoyed.  If Snoke had bothered to give him some sort of warning, Hux could’ve had a room prepared in advance.  That was, of course, if his guest was telling the truth.

“Snoke said I was to reach the palace as quickly as possible, then speak with you immediately.  I didn’t exactly do either,” Kylo said with a resigned sigh.

Hux’s eyes flicked towards the open storage room door.  He hadn’t moved the dresser back to its usual spot, and though his guest had no reason to be in there, he didn’t want to risk the trap-door being discovered.  He inched towards it, hoping Kylo was too tired to find the action suspicious.

“You didn’t sleep at all on your trip here from -” Hux began, stepping carefully through the open door.  “-wherever you came from, and we’re speaking now.  I’d say you followed your orders perfectly.”  He was relieved to see that Kylo was still standing where he’d left him, head peculiarly turned where Hux’s face had once been.  He took advantage of the opportunity, moving the desk back to its usual position with a single shove of his foot.

The desk made that horrible scraping noise again, snapping Kylo out of whatever trance he was in.  He turned towards Hux once more before speaking.  “It would. Probably be best if we spoke tomorrow…”

Between Kylo’s apparent inability to remain focused and Hux’s injury, that was probably for the best.  “Agreed.  After I have this wound tended to, I will see what I can do about preparing – “

“Here is fine,” Kylo interrupted.

Hux wasn’t sure he heard that right.  “…excuse me?”

Kylo stepped into the storage room.  “This room is more than adequate.  I can sleep on the floor.”

“That’s hardly my concern; these are _my_ chambers!  You can’t just barge in and decide you’re going to sleep in the King’s chambers!  I still don’t know if you can be trusted!”

Kylo sighed.  “If you’re worried about me sneaking into your bed and defiling you, don’t be.  You’re not my type.  Too flat.”

For a moment, Hux was alarmed. He looked down at his chest, expecting to see that his clothes were more torn than he thought they were. 

“It's not-I mean. I'm not interested in men.”

Words tumbled out of that helmet so quickly Hux barely caught them.  His shoulders slumped in relief as his mind caught up with what his ears had heard.  Refusing to dignify that ridiculous statement with a response, Hux made for the palace physician’s quarters, figuring there was no harm in letting his strange guest use the storage room for the time being.

Perhaps it was because of his forest excursion, or the strange calm he felt near his guest, but Hux felt that no harm would come to him anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who kudo'd/bookmarked the first chapter:  
>   
> I will find you. And I will die for you.
> 
> Chapter Warning Explanations:  
> Hux has something akin to a panic attack at the beginning of this chapter. Speaks of the physical and emotional pain it causes him to think about his past and mentions major depression and withdrawal. Relatively brief, and he takes out his emotions on wild animals (not very descriptive, save for the bear at the end-hence the 'A Bit of Gore' warning.) Kylo says something which implies something he doesn't actually believe, then takes it right back.


	3. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm ALMOST done with all the exposition. Worldbuilding is hard ok  
> Also, this fic is most likely going to have a ton of chapters. I might go back and combine some of them to form longer chapters somewhere down the road.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Graphic depiction of self-harm. Starts after the line "Still no response" near the end.  
> Kylo Ren's POV, full of manipulation and Snoke being gross.

Everything hurt.

That was the first thing Kylo noticed upon waking. His entire body was sore. He had a massive headache, his joints felt stiff, his skin felt as though it’d been rubbed raw, and he had a terrible crick in his neck.

He’d apparently fallen asleep before removing his helmet.

Kylo groaned, yanking the helmet off with as much force as he could muster before tossing it to the side. It bounced off of something solid with a jarring clang that made him flinch, causing an even sharper spike of pain in his neck.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Removing his gloves as well, Kylo massaged his neck as carefully as he could. Some hot water would’ve been much more effective, but he wasn’t exactly in possession of any at the time. Kylo hadn’t brought anything with him from Sutah Destuya as it would’ve slowed him down to a degree that was unacceptable.

Failing to follow the Supreme Leader's orders precisely usually led to actual, physical pain.

It should have been easy. The orders were simple: get to Septentrio as quickly as possible, then speak with the unworthy King immediately upon arrival. Kylo didn’t remember much from the night before, but his current state made it apparent that the orders weren’t as easy to follow as he’d expected.

As some of the pain in his neck dissipated, Kylo looked around the room. There were no windows, only a small amount of light filtering in from underneath the door, so it was difficult to see. He could only just make out a few shapes in the darkness; random assorted objects, books and scrolls, and a single desk he’d apparently thrown his helmet at.

Right, the storage room. _His_ storage room.

Kylo was disgusted with himself; he should’ve allowed them to prepare him his own room, at least for a day. Kylo understood the meaning of the phrase “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” but anything could have happened while he was asleep.

Someone could have tried to remove his helmet.

No one was meant to see Kylo’s face, least of all the King. The Supreme Leader believed, without a doubt, that King Hux was somehow responsible for Kylo’s missing memories. He had told Kylo that the Northern King had risen to his position not with his own merits, but with lies and deceit. Hux was an impossibly greedy man, and the obsidian throne of Septentrio wouldn’t satisfy him for long. It was only a matter of time before he attempted to overthrow Snoke and claim the title of Supreme Leader for himself.

The Supreme Leader knew it to be true as he had seen it in a vision; one he’d so kindly shared with his Knight. In order to quash the King's plans before they were set in motion, and hopefully to rediscover his own past, Kylo was sent to Septentrio to be the King’s personal bodyguard, a “reward” from The Supreme Leader for his “excellent leadership.”

Which meant that Kylo would have plenty of time to observe.

Every move the King made, everyone he spoke with, everything he kept hidden from the outside world. Kylo would leave no stone unturned. Failure wasn’t an option.

Kylo stood and stretched his arms out above his head, sighing in relief as some of the tension left. He must have slept for quite some time; the pain that followed whenever he failed an order was worse at the beginning, then faded over time. It wasn’t punishment; the threat of pain encouraged Kylo to push his own limits, to never give anything less than his all. The end result was always worth it.

Reaching out with the force, Kylo determined there was no one on the other side of the door. Good. He was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. He couldn’t force himself to look at his helmet, let alone put it back on so soon.

Kylo stepped into the central living space, taking no more than three steps forward before he felt something unusual. There was an unidentifiable force presence he couldn’t feel from the storage room, too small to be a living thing.

He walked slowly through the room, searching for the source. He stepped towards the window, and the presence all but faded. The closer Kylo moved in the opposite direction, the stronger it became until he reached a table standing along the wall just inside the room. Upon closer inspection, there was nothing special about it. It was just a wooden end table with a small clay pot of spider lilies: a rather interesting choice of decoration.

The force presence was far too small to be concerned with, so Kylo let it go. His neck felt much better, so he returned to the storage room to don his helmet again. He rarely ever removed it, even when no one was around, and never for any reason other than to sleep, eat, or bathe. It was just another part of his training, though he was still unsure what purpose it served. The Supreme Leader didn’t always explain his orders, and that was just fine.

Kylo trusted him with his life.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

The King was holding some type of forum with the city’s residents when Kylo finally ventured out of the royal quarters, intent on continuing his conversation with Hux from before. Kylo had no qualms about interrupting the forum; he’d only be following his orders if he did, but the damned Ysalamirian from yesterday was posted at the door, glaring at him with those iridescent eyes.

For being such a powerful form of magic, the force was so easily disabled by the mere presence of a single force-neutral being. It was beyond infuriating. If it weren’t for the delays caused by that guard and the fact that the King had supposedly been off fighting bears at midnight, he would’ve followed his orders perfectly for once.

Kylo met the guard’s leer. “How long until this is over?”

“Forty-five minutes.”

Patience wasn’t Kylo’s strong suit, and he wasn’t fond of feeling disconnected from the force, so he elected to explore the castle for a bit while he waited.

Nearly the entire castle had been built out of polished obsidian. It was quite impressive; obsidian was rare in the south. It must’ve been one hell of a journey transporting all of it from the far north.

The hallways were all the same, wide and illuminated by strange, glowing crystals Kylo had never seen before. They were warm to the touch, and a select few were noticeably brighter than the others. They alone broke the perfect order of the halls; even the people walking them did so in a perfectly ordered fashion, only breaking formation to keep their distance from Kylo.

It was amusing watching them scurry out of his way like mice in danger of being trampled. They had every reason to be afraid of him, of course. He’d created quite a scene upon his arrival, had shown himself to be a powerful force user. The Knights of Ren weren’t a public organization, but the higher-ranking officials were especially prone to gossip. It was likely that he was known to everyone in the castle before his arrival.

The interior rooms were surprisingly not as bland as the hallways. Though many of them were lit by those same crystals, they were also decorated with all sorts of plants, banners, and statues. Several wall-mounted flower pots housed elegant-looking red ivy vines which weaved together to form intricate patterns along the walls. A large, vertical banner with a bright red First Order insignia hung behind the throne in the main hall. The carvings of various historical figures were scattered about as well, but they held no interest for Kylo. Except one.

After exploring most of the inside, Kylo found his way to the central courtyard, and the eyes of nearly every guard, official, and citizen were on him instantaneously. He ignored them, letting his attention fall on what must have been a truly magnificent piece of art once.

It was a massive statue of a dragon, placed between two tall fountains and carved in the same dark obsidian as most of the castle. There were so many details Kylo wasn’t sure where to look. Every scale was different from the rest. It was almost breathtaking, but there was something notably absent. In place of its head and neck, there was a large clay pot filled with hundreds of anemones, begonias, and cyclamens sitting upon the flat area between its shoulders.

What was it with this place and its morbid flower arrangements?

Upon closer inspection, Kylo noticed there was some sort of inscription at the base of the statue-or at least there used to be. Most of the text looked as though it had been scratched out, either with sharp claws or some other instrument. Only one line remained in its entirety, possibly the title of the piece. He couldn’t read it, but looking at it gave him the strange sensation of being lighter than air; like he would float away if he didn’t hold onto something. He was so entranced he didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps and nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice sounded less than a meter behind him.

“Ah, there you are. I was told you came looking for me earlier.”

Kylo turned as the King drew near, already finished with his previous engagement. He had no way of telling the time, but Kylo knew it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since he had wandered off.

“That was quick.”

Hux shrugged nonchalantly. “If I’d stayed any longer, it’d have been a waste of time. I’m sure news from the Supreme Leader is much more important than half a dozen bigoted merchants convinced that every witch in the city is plotting their collective demise.”

Was he meant to laugh at that?

The King looked at him like he expected some sort of response, but didn’t press for one. When the silence had stretched on so far it was like to snap, he cleared his throat and asked,

“Why did Snoke send you?”

“As ordered by The Supreme Leader, I am to be your personal bodyguard as a reward for excellent leadership.”

“…my what?”

“Personal bodyguard,” Kylo repeated with a bit more emphasis than the first time.

Hux stared at him like he’d grown a second head; like the very concept was something foreign to him. Having seen how clueless the palace guards were before, perhaps it was.

“A bodyguard is - “Kylo began to explain, but he was quickly interrupted.

“I know what it is! Who wouldn't-I just don’t see why Snoke would so kindly lend me one of his own like this; without warning, and seemingly in such a hurry.”

Kylo sighed. The Supreme Leader had warned him that the King would prove himself difficult, but it was in his nature to be easily frustrated. Why couldn’t he just take an answer and leave it at that? It wasn’t difficult.

“I wasn’t told.  I was only given the order, and I intend to follow it.”

The King bent his head forward slightly, then slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Then can you get me in touch with Snoke, so he can explain himself?”

Kylo was unable to resist grinding his teeth together. “No, I cannot.”

The King narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why not?”

Kylo had the overwhelming urge to cut off the man’s air supply; keep him from asking any more questions, but he restrained himself. He’d never know who he really was or where he came from if he lost it and killed his target on the first day. If he could simply tear through his mind and take what he needed, he would. But the Supreme Leader had warned Kylo on multiple occasions that the King was adept at resisting mind tricks and guarding his thoughts. Anything more than skimming the surface could endanger the operation.

Though Kylo didn’t respond immediately, the King showed no signs of letting it slide like he did earlier. He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Kylo with a look that said “I’m waiting.”

Luckily, Kylo was particularly skilled at improvising.

“The Supreme Leader did not wish to cause panic.”

The King rose an eyebrow at that but didn’t ask for an explanation outright. That was fine; it gave Kylo more time to pull one out of his ass.

The King waited patiently for another minute or so before his face registered comprehension.

“He’s seen something.” 

Kylo nodded, hoping that he would drop the subject. 

The King assumed a more casual posture as he broke eye contact, turning to look towards the small crowd of people on the other side of the courtyard. They were having some sort of celebration; many of them held gold goblets as they guffawed at one of their members who seemed to be challenging a groundskeeper to a duel.

The King's expression wasn’t one of amusement or irritation. It was thoughtful, yet full of calm resignation. It was as though he wasn’t even seeing the group of obnoxious drunkards before him, too lost in his own thoughts for his mind to register what his eyes were seeing.

It was an opportunity Kylo couldn’t pass up.

He reached out with the force, dipping lightly into his mind.

_…is an omen? Wish I could have…one…time. What do you think you’re doing?_

Kylo tore himself from the King's mind. There was no way he could’ve been detected, and yet the King was looking in his direction with a furrowed brow.

Out of nowhere, Kylo was hit with a surging wave of pain so great it nearly brought him to his knees.

The King's expression changed to one of mild concern, though it seemed he still wasn’t done asking questions. So many questions. Too many questions!

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, stepping forward slowly, arms slightly extended as if he were preparing to catch Kylo should he fall.

“I’m fine,” Kylo managed, though he could barely hear himself speak. He straightened up again, despite the instinct to curl in on himself. Strangely enough, the pain was already fading.

“If you say so,” Hux muttered, crossing his arms behind his back.

Kylo willed his legs to carry him forward, hoping he could keep from hobbling. The King paid him no regard; choosing to stare at the inscription on the statue instead of him. Kylo watched his mouth move as though silently pronouncing something until he turned towards him again.

“It’s you,” He said with a sense of wonder.

“What?”

“Your name, I mean,” The King stepped closer and gestured towards the inscription. “Gairrro-reh.”

The noise the King had just made was something between a growl and a purr, not the usual syllables of human languages. Those words were unlike anything Kylo had ever heard before, and yet they were vaguely familiar. He wanted to hear them again.

“Gairrro-reh,” He repeated, granting Kylo's unspoken wish, “is an older pronunciation of Kylo Ren, in the Drrrkong language it originated from. Perhaps you were named after this one – whoever he was.”

Kylo turned towards the statue again. He had no way of knowing if the King was being sincere or merely toying with him. The information Kylo needed shouldn’t be so easily handed over; otherwise, the Supreme Leader would have already known everything. He would take anything he was given with a grain of salt.

“What does it mean?” Kylo asked tentatively.

The King's lips were pressed together in a tight line as he stared at the inscription. His eyes flicked between it and Kylo.

“You could just admit you don’t know,” Kylo huffed.

The King gave Kylo a look he couldn’t decipher, then scratched the back of his head. “I was named after someone famous as well.”

Kylo couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The King was willingly divulging the origin of his name to a complete stranger; one he’d just caught trying to read his thoughts. Were southerners normally so open? Or was this man even craftier than Kylo was told he’d be?

“Arrrmete-juh,” The King purred, “is the old Drrrkong pronunciation of Armitage, the King I was named after.”

Armitage. That name, too. Kylo felt as if he had heard it before; though he knew he had never heard that particular pronunciation.

“Have you heard of him?” The King asked.

“No – I don’t think so.”

The King only nodded in response. His eyes had a distant look to them like he was remembering something. He raised his left arm, seemingly healed already, and glanced at something on his wrist before addressing Kylo again.

“I’ll be meeting with my steward in a few minutes. We’ll be in room four if you want to…observe.” With that, he headed back towards the castle entrance.

Before he was out of the sight, the pain from earlier returned in full force, and Kylo fell to his knees. Rather than fading, it was seemingly growing with every added step between the two of them.

“What the fuck?!“ Kylo hissed.

It was almost as if the King had been holding the pain at bay. That didn’t make any sense; he wasn’t a force user. Everyone knew pureblood dragons weren’t capable of using the force, though they could be highly attuned to the use of it by those around them. The King must have been skilled at some other form of magic, or perhaps he was unaware of what was happening. Either way, Kylo would need to be more cautious.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

The truth was that “Gairrro-reh” was just as much of an insult as it was a name. Though Hux had no doubts it was the name of the dragon carved so carefully in the middle of the courtyard, there was a chance he was wrong, and that the title of “Nobody” was carved after the head was removed and the inscription destroyed. Hux wasn’t sure how to explain that without offending the Knight, who seemed to hold a great deal of pride.

Besides, he had had his fill of offending people earlier that morning. Just as Hux had suspected, Harold meant to accuse him of being part of Brendol’s alleged plot to destroy all non-humans. The only truthful part of what Harold had been given by his informant was the existence of Arkanis Academy, as well as the name and physical appearance of its President. The rest was a bundle of fabricated stories that were likely made up on the spot; even the Academy’s location wasn’t correct. Harold likely paid his informant based on quantity, not quality.

Hux had easily debunked all of Harold’s claims, making the man look like a complete imbecile in the process. Hux doubted he’d try anything so foolish again if he cared about his reputation. If the look on Harold’s face at the end of the meeting was anything to go by, then the informant was probably in danger if he hadn’t already fled the city. The little miscreant deserved whatever he had coming; Hux had no sympathy for liars.

Except himself, maybe.

A bit miffed, Mitaka repeated in a clipped voice, “Deal or no deal?”

Hux wasn’t about to ask which deal, lest he reveal just how much he wasn’t paying attention, so he shook his head and took the parcel Mitaka held out for him. “I’ll look over it later. You’re dismissed.”

Strangely enough, Kylo Ren never appeared. Or perhaps it wasn’t so strange; after all, nothing the Knight had done so far could be considered normal. Still, he’d made such a big deal that morning about not following orders exactly, so shouldn’t he be there standing around uselessly like bodyguards were meant to?

It had been over an hour since he had left Kylo in the courtyard. Perhaps he had gotten lost or decided he had something more pressing to attend to, some other orders from Snoke he hadn’t disclosed. It was all very suspicious. If Hux hadn’t spoken to Maul during lunch about the Knights of Ren, he might still have suspected Kylo to be lying about his identity.

And then there was that pervasive calm Hux felt whenever he was near him. When Hux first approached Kylo after returning from his late-night excursion, the feeling was sudden and so powerful it was impossible to ignore.  When he’d spoken to Kylo at the statue, the feeling was no more than an undercurrent, easily overshadowed by his more rational emotions. But it was still there.

Hux really should have been more cautious; he knew that. He wasn’t sure if Kylo was doing it intentionally, if he was just as confused by it as Hux was, or if he was completely unaware of it.

Hux had felt the Knight trying to look into his mind; the feeling of calm had increased as he did. If it was intentional, what purpose could it possibly serve? Kylo didn’t seem to have any interest in being friendly, so it wouldn’t make any sense if the effect was meant to make Hux more open with him.

And yet that’s exactly what it did.

Hux hated pointless small talk. It wasted both parties’ time and usually achieved nothing, and yet he had tried it with Kylo Ren of all people. Why?

_Because he reminds you of someone you once knew._

He was gathering all the documents and packages Mitaka brought him when Maul’s voice rang out in his mind. He dropped everything back onto the conference table in surprise, cursing as he stooped to gather it all up again.

Maul didn’t elaborate, and Hux didn’t ask him to. Though he didn’t want to acknowledge it, it was true. In all his years spent wandering the human lands between the First Order and Sutah Destuya, he had encountered plenty of pseudo-humans, children born from one human parent and one partial-human parent. Those children were often indistinguishable from typical humans, though they sometimes retained some physical or magical aspects of their non-human lineage.

But Hux had only ever known three pseudo-human dragons, including Kylo Ren. The other two were…close friends. That was why he wanted to know more about the Knight.

It was unbelievably stupid. Hux spent every waking minute avoiding his past as much as he could, but as soon as something even remotely familiar showed up, he clung to it like a drowning man to a floating log.

He dropped his stack of documents again, intentionally this time. Mitaka could bring it to him later. Or not.

He marched out of the room, intent on locating and coercing Kylo Ren to answer at least one of his questions. He stepped out onto the courtyard first to make sure the Knight wasn’t still ogling the statue. He wasn’t there, and the groundskeepers hadn’t seen where he went.

He then spent an unreasonably long amount of time wandering the halls and asking passerby about the Knight’s whereabouts, to which none of them had answers. Rather than wasting any more of his time, he retreated to his personal quarters.

As soon as he entered the main room, he caught a whiff of that unique scent.

…and blood.

Hux all but ran to the storage room door. He knocked loudly, but there was no response. He was sure Kylo was in there, so why wasn’t he responding?

“Is everything alright in there?” He asked.

Still no response.

Hux grasped the door handle. He took a deep breath, directed a wordless plea to both Maul and the Sun Goddess for protection, and then opened the door.

Kylo was sitting with his back against the desk, legs stretched out in front of him. One of his gloves lay on the floor near his right foot. He’d pulled the left sleeve of his tunic up to the elbow, showing off an array of crisscrossed scars of various lengths and thickness, and a dark trail of blood which dripped steadily onto the floor, creating a small puddle. In his right hand was a knife, identical to the ones provided in the mess hall.

As Hux watched, too shocked to speak, Kylo raised the knife to his elbow where the blood trail began. He plunged the knife into the inner crease of his elbow as far as it would go, then dragged it along the bloody path to his wrist, causing even more blood to well up and spill from the wound.

Kylo continued to ignore Hux’s presence as he repeated the action. The fact that he wasn’t already dead from blood loss was another reminder that despite his scent and appearance, the Knight was anything but human.

Regardless, Hux couldn’t just stand there and watch something like that. Fast healing aside, Kylo would need plenty of bandages later. So Hux turned and left to get some, firmly shutting the door behind him as he did.


	4. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow ok. So I had actually finished the rough draft of this chapter just a few weeks after the previous one, but then life hit me with like 3454655 curve balls and I never got around to refining it until Spring Break. I am so sorry it's been like half a year lmao, here's some kylux
> 
> Chapter Warnings (See End Notes for more details):  
> Self-Harm Aftermath(?)  
> Discussion of Self-Harm  
> Assassination Attempt  
> The Void (?)

Kylo was floating. His arms and legs felt less like parts of his body and more like solid lead, hanging rigidly below him as though pulled by some unseen force while the rest of his body continued upwards. Despite the unnatural sensation, he felt calm. The pain from earlier was gone; no trace of it remained. He could’ve been floating for no more than a few minutes, but it felt like days, months even. Before he could muster the energy to worry about himself, he heard something almost painfully loud in the silence. Muffled shouting, perhaps? Soon after, he felt a slight tug, and then both of his hands went to his helmet almost by instinct alone.

“What are you doing?” Kylo opened his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them in the first place. The King was crouched just in front of him with a worried expression. Both of his hands were on either side of his helmet, held awkwardly in place by Kylo’s own.

“You must have fainted.” The King stated it like the obvious. He made no attempt to remove his hands, nor did he give a direct answer to the question. He stared unwaveringly at his visor, as though he were afraid that he would fall unconscious again as soon as he looked away.

Kylo shifted, releasing his hands and letting his own drop to his lap. Pain flared along the inside of his left arm from his elbow down to his wrist, and he clutched at it. Gingerly, he brought it up to eye level. His sleeve was rolled up so far it was restricting his blood flow, and nearly his entire forearm was covered in blood-drenched bandages. He startled, turning to the King so quickly he made himself dizzy.

“What is this?!” He held his arm out towards him as though he were making an offering.

“That’s your arm. I cleaned it and bandaged it up for you while you were…unresponsive. And then I realized, perhaps a bit late, that you were unconscious,” The King shrugged. “Honestly, it’s difficult to tell with the way you refuse to take that thing off. It’s almost amusing how all that shouting did nothing, yet you wake up as soon as I touch the helmet.”

So it _was_ shouting.

The King began to look more annoyed than concerned, but he still didn’t move from his crouched position. It wasn’t until Kylo noticed the dried blood on his bare hands that his words truly sunk in.

“How did this happen?” Kylo asked. More importantly, how did it happen without him noticing?

The King stared at him like he’d grown a third head.

“How?” Kylo asked again with a bit more emphasis.

“You don’t remember?”

Now Kylo was annoyed. “Obviously not.”

Once again, he didn’t answer immediately. His expression turned to one Kylo couldn’t decipher. Not until he spoke again. “You did that to yourself. Before you fell unconscious.”

Pity, then.

Kylo huffed in irritation before gathering himself together. The King nearly jumped to his feet, poised to catch him if he fell.

“I don’t need your pity!” Kylo was standing perfectly straight, unassisted. His head swam a bit, but it would pass quickly. The pain in his arm wasn’t new; it would also pass soon enough.

To his credit, the King didn’t flinch back the way Eris did the last time Kylo refused his help. The closest thing Kylo had to a friend amongst the other knights, Eris was usually the one to patch Kylo up after his episodes.

“You think I pity you?” The King asked, still hovering.

“It was written on your face. No point in hiding it now.”

“It wasn’t pity, I assure you.”

“If not pity, what then?”

The King gave a quiet sigh, then shrugged his coat off. As Kylo looked on in confusion, he folded it over his right arm before carefully rolling up the left sleeve of his tunic and stretching his then bare left arm out towards Kylo.

“What are you doing?” Kylo questioned, gaze drifting between the proffered arm and his face, then back again.

“Look closer. Better yet, take that obnoxious bucket off and then look.”

Kylo ignored the jab at his helmet, stepping closer and lifting the arm until it was in proper view. At first glance, it was just an arm. Pale and a bit thinner than he would have expected, but a perfectly normal arm nonetheless. Upon closer inspection, there were perhaps dozens of small, crisscrossed scars of various lengths, most of them so faint they were hardly visible.

“Not pity,” The King repeated. “Understanding.”

Kylo’s gut twisted, and he allowed him to retract his arm. The King had rolled his sleeve back down and was turning as if to exit the room when Kylo found he couldn’t contain his curiosity. He tried skimming over his most recent thoughts for some sort of answer. He could have sworn he heard the King laugh softly under his breath.

“You have a voice. If you want to know, just ask.”

“Will you answer if I do?”

“Maybe.” The King smirked.

“Why’d you do it?”

The King's face fell as he contemplated his answer. Kylo had nearly given up on receiving one by the time he finally spoke.

“Many reasons,” He nearly whispered. “Because I was upset. Because I was angry. Because I was desperate, hopeful, disgusted, jealous. Greedy.” His gaze traveled back to Kylo’s visor again. “I’d choose to forget it all if I could, to wipe my mind clean and start from scratch. As it stands, I can only distract myself.” He gestured towards Kylo’s bandaged arm. “Do try to refrain from doing any more damage than you have already, unless you’re willing to clean up after yourself.”

With that, he left the room. Kylo waited a beat before following.

“You don’t really want that.”

The King scoffed, incredulous gaze following Kylo as he moved to stand before him again. He didn’t ask Kylo to elaborate, nor did he move from his spot. He crossed his arms and waited, schooling his expression into one of detached curiosity.

“Ignorance isn’t bliss. It’s misery.”

His expression remained impassive as they stared one another down, but then the King broke the silence with a short, harsh laugh.

“Then it seems we just can’t win either way.”

And then he had left Kylo there to ponder the meaning behind those awfully cryptic words, passing through the front room into his bedchamber. For the second time that night, Kylo trailed behind him almost mindlessly.

The King raised an eyebrow at the intrusion, but he said nothing, forsaking any conversation to remove his boots (a long process, apparently) while staring pointedly at Kylo as if to silently ask, _“Do you mind?”_

Seeing the lack of a direct dismissal as an indirect invitation, Kylo spoke again.

“You’d really throw everything away, just like that? Live with no memory of how you got to where you are, your achievements, your own identity? You can’t possibly begin to comprehend just how terrifying it is--“

Kylo stopped, mentally admonishing himself.

He had known this man for just around twenty-four hours, had every reason _not_ to trust him, including at least one good reason to believe he was directly related to his amnesia, and yet there he was-- a hair’s breadth away from unwrapping his every layer of defense and baring his very soul. All because he had found someone else who may have, at one point in time, understood what it felt like to crave pain the way a starving man craved bread.

The King, then free of several layers of clothing, perched on the edge of his bed and regarded him thoughtfully. “Sounds like you know from experience.”

Kylo felt as though something heavy was trapped in his throat. He swallowed to dislodge it, unsure of his next move.

Was he suspected already? Playing the fool may tip him off to Kylo’s identity somehow, but the King would have less reason to suspect his true motives. Telling the truth, at least partially, was likely the best course of action in this situation.

“I’d give anything to remember,” Kylo admitted. He didn’t continue, unwilling to give off the impression that he was desperate to share personal information. Either the King would take the bait and press for more, or they’d leave it at that and Kylo would return to the storage room-turned-bedroom.

The King's eyes darted between Kylo and the bed, torn between a good night’s sleep and curiosity.

He chose the latter. “What don’t you remember?”

“The better question is what _do_ I remember. Pain, with just a hint of regret, perhaps. Nothing tangible, nothing useful.”

“Then perhaps it’s for the better, the way things are.” The King spoke softly, with an almost distant look.

“Better? What’s better?” Kylo scoffed, the noise made even harsher by his helmet. “Not knowing if whatever or whoever caused me that pain is still out there? Not knowing if there’s something I did – something I shouldn’t have done, something I can fix? Not knowing who I am or where I came from?” A quick pause, then “You wouldn’t want this.”

For a moment, the King looked as if he wanted to argue his point further. Instead, he broke eye contact, combed a hand through his hair and muttered “Sorry.”

Whatever Kylo expect to hear, _sorry_ wasn’t it.

“Sorry,” He repeated more loudly. “As King, I’ve grown unaccustomed to recognizing the feelings of others when politics aren’t involved,” He said with a wry smile. “It’s a shame we can’t trade our situations. Even if we ended up hating them just the same.”

“That’s something we can agree on.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Kylo had been perusing the books in the palace’s massive library when an overwhelming sensation of pure wrongness hit him. The force of it was enough to cause him to drop _The Art of Kaminoan Calligraphy_ , and then he was running towards some unknown destination like his life depended on it.

Somewhere beneath the fog of urgency, there was a hint of familiarity. Like he had found himself in this very situation once before. If only he had been thinking clearly, he might have connected some part of the present with the unknown.

But there wasn’t time. He wasn’t going to make it.

He began to recognize the halls flying past him, remembered the schedule one of the guards had relinquished after Kylo had requested one so kindly, and then had done so again with a small hand gesture after he had been denied. The King was holding an open forum out under the pavilion that morning, the one near the west wing. That was the destination.

One of the groundskeepers shuffled in through a side door meant for servants. He looked up at the sound of hurried footsteps, then dove out of the way as Kylo burst through that same door out onto the courtyard.

Kylo hadn’t actually been to the pavilion before, but that didn’t stop his legs from carrying him there with impressive speed. A guard, someone he didn’t recognize, moved as if to stop him from interrupting once he was close enough to hear the King's voice. Kylo didn’t think twice; he sent the man hurtling into a decorative pot, shattering it and drawing the attention of everyone nearby.

His eyes met the King's shocked expression for just a second, and then he found the source of his panic: a hooded figure perched atop the roof of one of the buildings directly across from them, bow drawn and positively reeking of uncontrollable fury.

“Get down!” Kylo shouted, and most of the crowd obeyed. Time slowed to a near stand-still, and then there was nothing but him and the steel arrow flying directly towards them. He didn’t need to look to know that it was on the correct path to hitting its target.

Stopping projectiles with the force could be difficult, it required a great deal of focus and accuracy. Luckily, Kylo was especially gifted at that particular trick, and the arrow hung suspended mere inches from piercing the King's heart. It would have been fatal; even a pureblood dragon would not survive such an injury.

With remarkable calm, the King reached up and plucked the arrow out of the air, turning it about for a bit as he examined it. “Basilisk venom? A bit superfluous, especially with that precision.” Their eyes met again, and Kylo suddenly remembered that there was a person behind the assassination attempt.

A person on which the surprise of seeing their arrow stop midair had worn off, and who was then fleeing the scene.

Kylo took off at a sprint yet again, leaving the panicked crowd of citizens behind him.

He vaulted over the outer wall as the guards ran about like headless fowl, unwilling to waste time on them. If the security team was really as incompetent as it seemed, he could handle it himself.

He was a predator, and the hooded stranger was his prey.

Just as Kylo was starting to gain ground, they reached the market square. The further they went, the thicker the crowds became. His target darted between bodies, and it was increasingly difficult to follow.

Having arrived late at night when most residents were asleep, Kylo had vastly underestimated just how populous the city of Septentrio was. There was little breathing room between shops, and the various attempts by the shopkeepers at drawing people in were indistinguishable over the din of the crowds themselves. People of various species and cultures meandered through like they hadn’t a care in the world, completely unaware of the situation. It was infuriating.

He began to see the flash of white less frequently until he no longer saw it at all. He slowed to a stop in the middle of the square, scanning every direction. His eyes were met with vibrant colors, extravagant attire, plush feathers, shimmering scales and bright eyes, but no white.

A small flock of gryffins screeched from above, likely part of security, and Kylo looked up for guidance: some form of message or signal. He was given nothing of the sort as they continued to fly about in confused, disordered patterns. Given the aerial advantage and enough time, they might have made themselves useful. But Kylo wasn’t a particularly patient man. Frustrated, he lashed out at the nearest box of goods, sending its contents tumbling out onto the street.

A short, pudgy shopkeeper appeared from behind his stand. “Hey! What are you doing that for?”

Kylo ignored him, kicking over another box full of assorted fabrics as numerous passerby scrambled out of the way. The destruction went on unhindered as onlookers shrank in fear, none of them willing nor able to stop him. An elderly woman shrieked as Kylo lifted her entire stand—and all the goods displayed upon it—into the air, leaving it suspended for just a moment before sending it crashing against a wall. He ignored the many frantic voices as he stomped towards the rubble, intent on smashing the few goods which remained intact under his heel, but he stopped short and tried, pointlessly, to cover his nose as he was met with an awful stench. The little corner he had thrown the stand into was understandably vacant, probably due to the smell coming from beneath an iron grate which must have led to the sewers.

A realization cut through Kylo as sharply as the stench.

Guards would be posted at every possible exit, roaming the streets and monitoring from above. The would-be assassin surely knew that. They could hide all they wanted, but they would be smoked out eventually…unless there was another way out, somewhere no one would even think of searching.

There would be no guards in the sewers.

 

 

\---

 

 

Hux was quickly becoming aware of just how unaccustomed his staff were to doing their jobs.

He had watched as Kylo Ren ran off in pursuit of his attacker and, apparently having given them too much credit, expected the security detail to launch into action soon after.

Ten minutes.

It took nearly ten minutes of frantic back-and-forth between anywhere from two to seven guards at a time before they came to an agreement on their course of action. A large, broad-shouldered wyvern had been trying his best to herd the frightened crowd out of the palace grounds while also trying to keep his coworkers calm and on track when he had noticed that Hux was still leering at them from behind his podium, arms then crossed but otherwise unmoving. Realizing the mistake, the wyvern was quickly at Hux’s side, urging him to relocate somewhere safe. The rest of the guards that chose to stick around soon followed suit, and they all fell into a tight formation around him, effectively creating a protective meat shield.

Hux said nothing as they moved indoors and pretended not to see the guards’ flushed, rueful expressions. Sabrina had accused him of working _too_ much, but what was to be said about his security detail? They were so out of practice that they had forgotten the very first rule of defense in the event of an attempted assassination: get the target to safety. Everything else was to come afterward, and yet they had neglected to even confirm the King’s status before getting all riled up and tossing out half-formed ideas at one another for an entire _ten minutes._

Once they had reached his private quarters, Hux dismissed his escorts. All but the wyvern, whose name Hux planned on asking for at some point, left without another word. He hung back for a bit, got Hux’s personal guards caught up on the situation, and then made a quick assessment of Hux’s well-being and ensured him that there were measures being taken to capture his attacker. Hux had thanked him and made a mental note to speak with Phasma about a potential pay raise.

Hux dodged any additional inquiries as he entered his quarters, marching straight for the bed which he immediately collapsed onto.

Thus removed from the chaos, the reality of what had just happened – what could have happened – finally caught up with him. Hux exhaled a rattling breath, felt the frantic pounding of his heart as it threatened to burst out of his chest.

He had almost died.

Granted, Hux had found himself in more than one situation where death was a likely outcome. He had actively sought them out when he was younger – found himself drawn to dangerous circumstances like a moth to a flame. The threat of death was always lurking nearby, but it was never so close that he could touch it, reach out and pluck it from the air like he had just minutes ago.

His staffs’ incompetence came to the forefront of his mind again at that. Someone who likely had little to no knowledge of Hux’s daily routine had appeared out of nowhere in the nick of time and saved his life while security stood around being utterly useless for far longer than their pay grade allowed.

Perhaps allowing the strange Knight to be his personal bodyguard wasn’t such a bad idea. Hux had his doubts about Kylo’s motives in the beginning, and he found Kylo’s apparent memory loss to be rather troublesome, but there was no denying the fact that he would have been dead were it not for the Knight’s quick reflexes.

His thoughts drifting to the conversation they had that night. He recalled the way Kylo had refused to let the subject of their shared habits drop. That was the first meaningful, even positive interaction between the two; quite possibly the only one of its kind for Hux since he had on better terms with Sabrina. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, didn’t want to give in to the need for companionship he had been ignoring for so long, especially not after he had turned his closest friend away just days prior.

But there was a tightness growing in his chest, and Hux wasn’t sure there would be any benefit to stopping it. It couldn’t have come from nowhere; it must have stemmed from that calming sensation he felt whenever he was in Kylo’s proximity, a phenomenon he desperately wished he had the answer to.

Inevitably, Hux found himself dozing off. What with all that he had been through that day, he didn’t try to fight it.

The transition from conscious to unconscious was nearly seamless. Hux was still mulling over the day’s events as his surroundings faded. First the bed, then the clutter about his room, then the furniture, the walls, and even the floor below him. He paid the process no mind at first, too caught up in his own thoughts to notice what was happening around him. But then his stomach was in his throat as though it were trying desperately to escape him. He felt disoriented within his own mind, uncharacteristically aware of his unconsciousness. He turned his head, surprised to find that he had full control of the action.

Nothing.

There was nothing around him but darkness, so dark it was as if it had a physical presence. Hux felt real fear at that. He knew he had fallen asleep, but he didn’t _feel_ asleep. What if he was experiencing some sort of vision? If it was just a dream, it was far unlike any dream he had ever had. The emptiness felt almost sinister, like it had a mind of its own. He moved his head again, this time looking down at his body to see that it was really there. Expecting fabric, his eyes were met with thick fur the color of his hair, framed by gleaming copper scales which reflected the light of the sun that he was certain had not been there before. Along with the sun, there were snow-covered mountains, partially hidden by thick clouds of fog, and - when had he started flying? Hux was beating his wings; he continued to do so even as he had no memory of when he had started.

He soared through the clouds, blinking rapidly as the moisture collected on his face. The mountains were beautiful; quiet and seemingly undisturbed. He thought, for a moment, that he would like to visit them someday while awake. A movement caught his eye, and he dropped the thought. He saw it again, a dark form just ahead, disappearing and reappearing from cloud to cloud. Taunting him.

_Catch me, if you can._

Hux felt giddy, his earlier thoughts and fears forgotten. The sneaky bastard knew he couldn’t keep ahead of him without some trick. Hux was too quick, too flexible. Keeping himself out of sight was the only way to avoid being caught.

Hux sped up, noted the direction of the wind and flew with it. Keeping his eyes peeled for the quick flashes of black within the fog, he too darted from cloud to cloud. If they kept it up, they would find themselves at the edge of the valley in no time. It would be too easy then; they would have to make a sharp turn to the west to stay within the clouds.

And so Hux dove hard to the left, folding his wings behind him at a sharp angle and drastically increasing his speed - and then he was colliding with a solid mass of pure muscle, barely contained by a thin layer of skin stretched tight and protected by hardened black scales. The wind was knocked out of the both of them, and they were knocked out of the wind. They were tumbling together, equally out of breath from laughter as they were from the impact. Most of Hux’s body ached, and he was certain he had swallowed a bit of snow.

The black dragon, the one he knew so well, lay on its back, gently dusting the snow off its chest with a large paw. It had four of them, just like Hux.

An inexplicable warmth spread through Hux at the motion, and then he was clambering on top of the other dragon. There was no motion to stop him from it, nor from leaning down and gently blowing a puff of smoke into the other’s face.

“I caught you.”

Soft brown eyes met his from below. “Caught me under your wings.”

Something stirred within him at that; an understanding that there was more to that phrase than the low, rumbling words themselves.

Hux tried to reply, willed his vocal cords to work, but no sound came out. Everything was fading, the color draining from around them. He tried again, but to no avail. There was something he needed to say. He didn’t want to leave yet. He never wanted to leave. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t see -

“I’ll catch up to you one day.”

And then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry it's been so long. And if you haven't gone back and re-read from the beginning, please do!!! I changed, removed, and added a whole lot after I got my life back together again!!! Especially in the first chapter!!
> 
> And again, I have no beta or anything, so please tell me if you see any glaring mistakes or weird incongruencies, please let me know.
> 
> hmu @ ninpotato.tumblr if you wanna chat- I don't bite!
> 
> Chapter Warning Explanations:
> 
> Self-Harm Aftermath- Kylo lost too much blood that he ended up passing out, but Hux realizes this and gives him a hand. Kylo's extremely disoriented and doesn't actually remember cutting himself at all.
> 
> The Void- Not sure if this needed to be a warning or not, but it's basically just a nightmare place of emptiness both of them find themselves in from time to time while dreaming-Kylo at the beginning of this chapter, and Hux at the end. I felt mildly creeped out writing those bits, so I included a warning for it just in case.


	5. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That's officially the fastest I've ever gotten a new chapter out. Don't expect this to happen very often!
> 
> Chapter Warnings (Check the end notes for more info):  
> Horror/Dark Magic (?)  
> Implied Torture

Hux’s attacker had been caught - by no other than Kylo Ren, unsurprisingly.  Despite his own use of the sewer tunnels, Hux had not thought of them being used as a potential escape route.  He didn’t think anyone else knew how to navigate them.  To be able to do so meant to spend absurd amounts of time wandering about beneath the city, taking notes on every turn-making a map, even. 

Hux had used those tunnels himself just a few days prior.  What if they had run into one another then? Hux would have been caught completely off guard, and in a state of distress.  Would he have been able to defend himself, or call for help?  No, the second option was impossible.  If his staff couldn’t defend him out in the open, they wouldn’t have been of any use in the cramped underground, assuming they could even get there in time.

Kylo would not have been around to save him either.

Hux remembered then that he had not properly thanked him yet.  He had not spoken with the Knight since the attack, and as it wasn’t quite five in the morning, it was safe to assume he was still asleep. 

As for Hux, he was appalled by the amount of time he had spent sleeping.  He slept through the entire afternoon after the attack, had a brief moment of consciousness early in the evening, and didn’t wake again until around four.  That was more than twelve hours!  Twelve hours he could have been doing something more productive, like…

Hux looked down at the journal he’d been writing in.  He had already finished detailing everything that had occurred in his dreams that night, and he had also made sure to read and re-read it, checking for any inconsistencies.  A quick glance at the heaping pile of completed paperwork at his right, and Hux found that perhaps the excessive rest wasn’t such a bad thing after all. 

There wasn’t really anything he had to do.

Hux reached for his weekly schedule, rendered almost useless due to memorization.  It was Friday-which meant he had the usual meeting at half-past ten, then a discussion with the board of commerce, an interview with the tourism director…

Hux released the schedule, and it fluttered to the ground.  What did it matter, really?  Nothing productive ever happened during those meetings.  He was sure the tourism director neither needed nor cared for his input.  The economy was thriving.  No one would miss him.

What would he do, then?  All of his free time was spent either working on something or sleeping.  He certainly wasn’t going to sleep all day. 

Rather conveniently, Hux heard movement from Kylo’s room.  Kylo was probably just as free as he was, and the time Hux had to spare for him had been rather limited thus far.  He made an effort to look truly busy, not wanting to make it apparent that he was waiting for Kylo to emerge.  Eventually, the door opened – slowly, like Kylo was trying not to cause a disturbance. 

Hux looked up from where he was jotting down his ideas for the day.  “Morning.”

Kylo was wearing his helmet, as always.  Hux hoped he didn’t sleep in it – the very thought had him feeling ghost pains in his own neck.

Kylo took a second to close the door behind him with much less care than he’d opened it.  “Are you always awake at this ungodly hour?”

“Usually – and I wouldn’t call it ungodly.  Gods don’t sleep.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re some kind of demigod?”

“Ha.  If I was, do you think I’d be down here signing service agreements?” Hux lifted one for emphasis.

“No, I guess not.”  Kylo stepped into the doorway.  He inclined his head towards Hux’s notes.  “What’s that?”

“Ah, just some ideas for today.  I cancelled all previous engagements.”

“Why?”

Hux swallowed, suddenly nervous for no apparent reason.  “Well, I was hoping to show you around the city, since you’ll be staying here from now on – thank you for yesterday, by the way – and…”

“For now,” Kylo interjected.

“Sorry?” Hux asked, confused.

“You said ‘from now on’ like I’ll be around forever.  I’m just here until Snoke decides I’m of more use elsewhere.  When he does, he’ll send you a replacement, I’m sure.”

“Oh.  Yes, that’s right,” Hux responded, trying to keep the disappointment from his face.  “Forgive the assumption, I just – anyways, you don’t have anything planned for today, do you?”

“No.  I’m all yours.”

Oh, how Hux wished that was true.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Hux started with the palace personnel.  Most of them were also awake at “ungodly” hours, though they didn’t normally leave their rooms until closer to meeting time.  He could barely restrain his laughter at the sight of the palace chef, a rather overweight, short man in his brightly-colored underclothes and a pair of fluffy white slippers, who opened the door with an exasperated “What in a hell’s ass, Martie? I tolds ya I can’t hold my-your highless?!”

Hux could have been imagining it, but he was sure he saw Kylo’s shoulders trembling.  Hux’s own voice shook as he assured the rather hungover – or perhaps still drunk – chef that nothing was wrong, that he wasn’t in trouble, and that Hux didn’t care if he had had a bit too much to drink.  The embarrassment of the situation was punishment enough.

Hux skipped over several of the less important staff.  They were on their way to the physician’s office when Hux caught sight of Captain Phasma. Phasma had disappeared for at least a week or two, so Hux made sure to halt the tour for a chance to speak with her.

“Captain!  A moment, please.”

“Your highness.” She offered Kylo no more than a glance.

“You’ve been at the norther border for around a week, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has something happened up there?”

She hesitated just a fraction of a second.  “We received reports around a month ago detailing a number of disappearances from every border town.  I sent a few of my soldiers down to check it out, but they came back with nothing, so we assumed it was a hoax.”

“But it wasn’t.” Hux assumed.

“No.  We received further reports, each more credible than the last, and each more…significant.  The number of disappearances has been increasing, and we’ve not yet discovered why.”

“Yes, that’s quite concerning.  Less so if they’re leaving of their own accord, I suppose.  Contact the immigration department, see if they’ve heard anything, and continue to monitor the situation.  Report back to me as soon as you have a lead.”

Phasma nodded, then took her leave.  Worried that they might not have much time left for the more exciting activities Hux had planned, he resolved to just showing Kylo where the physician’s office was, in case he was ever in need of her, and then they were leaving the palace grounds.

It was a bright, sunny day – Hux’s favorite kind of weather, mostly due to the nature of his flame magic and his abhorrence of the wet and gloomy climate he grew up with.  He led Kylo through the streets, thankful that the surprised and perhaps fearful crowds parted to allow them to pass through with ease.  He had a few specific places he wanted to go, but they stopped by several locations of interest on the way, including a building with a sign out front touting “The best Krellian meat pies this side of Krellia – seventh shop on the right.” 

The smell wafting from within had Hux’s stomach rumbling like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.  Kylo didn’t seem all that interested, so Hux left him outside.  It was better that he not be there in case he started drooling, which he was sure would happen if the massive line didn’t start moving.  Clearly, the customers agreed with the sign outside.  The building the shop was located in was one of the largest besides the palace, and yet the line extended past several other shops, weaving back and forth until it was almost to the building’s entrance.  He was beginning to feel regret at abandoning Kylo for food when someone he assumed to be an employee spotted him.

“Your highness?” The green-skinned woman asked timidly. 

“Yes…?” 

“Oh, it’s – sorry, we didn’t think you’d ever show up here, um.  You don’t have to wait in line…”

Oh, what a relief.  Being King really did have its perks.  Hux tried to respond, but the employee cut him off.

“Actually, wait here – not in the line, but. Here.  I’ll be right back!”  She ran off to the front of the line, leaving Hux confused and agitated.  Whatever was she making him wait for?  Had he not waited long enough already?

Leaning against the wall opposite the line and ignoring the furtive glances he was getting, Hux heard the sounds of an argument somewhere ahead in a language he didn’t recognize, and then the same woman from before was hurrying towards him with a large paper bag.  “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, “but my boss didn’t think it was really you.  My name is Shantie, by the way.”  She handed him the steaming hot bag of meat pies, which smelled much better up close, and then he really was drooling a bit.  He realized, in the back of his mind, that they probably contained at least a few ingredients he couldn’t stomach, and that he would definitely be sick later as a result, but he was too hungry to care.

Hux was already inhaling the last of them when someone shouted in the distance, causing Shantie to flinch.

“If you could, maybe, just come to the shop for a moment?  We could give you some more, if you’d like…”  Someone shouted again, louder than before, and Shantie shouted back.  A man in a dirty apron appeared from around the line, angrily marching towards them, but he stopped short upon seeing Hux.  Shantie said something to him, jabbing her thumb at Hux, and then the man disappeared again before returning with two bags of meat pies, shoving them into Hux’s hands and muttering words in a language he couldn’t understand.  He thanked them both before devouring another bag’s worth, and then he returned to where he had left Kylo.

“Finally,” Kylo muttered upon his return.

“Sorry, but these were definitely worth the wait.  Here, try one.”  Hux reached into the bag, but Kylo held up his hands.

“…no thanks.”

“Are you sure?”  Hux asked, not wanting them to go to waste.  He certainly wasn’t going to eat any more than he had already.

Kylo said nothing at first, then nodded slowly, and Hux came to a realization.  Kylo had never been seen near the cafeteria.  As far as he knew, no one at the palace had ever seen Kylo’s face, either. 

Hux stared at him for a moment, not at all convinced that he wasn’t at least _somewhat_ interested in the food, and then he heard it: an impossibly loud, low grumbling that couldn’t have been anything other than Kylo’s stomach. 

Kylo took a sudden step back, looked down at himself, and crossed his arms over his stomach like the action would do something to quiet it.

Hux laughed and shoved the bag at him.  “Just save it for later.”

Kylo snatched the bag out of his hand rather enthusiastically, clutching it to his chest as if protecting it from something.

“Let me know if it gets cold,” Hux said, creating a few small sparks with a snap of his fingers.  “I can warm it back up.”  Kylo startled a bit, turning his body (and the bag of meat pies) away from him. “– without burning it, I promise.”

They continued the trip – Kylo’s stomach stopped growling at some point, but his hold on the bag remained tight – and Hux introduced him to those at the immigration office, the central bank, the barracks, and several others, most of whom were so surprised by the king’s unannounced appearance that they didn’t know what to do with themselves.  Hux secretly delighted at making them uncomfortable, and Kylo seemed equally amused, though if someone were to ask him how he could even know that, he wouldn’t have an answer for them.  He just knew.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

It was almost dark when they reached what Hux promised was their final destination.  He had claimed to have saved the best for last – while most of the other locations had involved conversation with important people, the Yggdrazil, apparently, was a place where the two could enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. 

“So what is this, exactly?”  Kylo asked once they reached it at the end of an empty street, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the city.

“An art studio.  Open only to the most reputable of artists – and myself, of course.  It’s illegal to prohibit a King from entering anywhere he so pleases.”

Kylo didn’t have much experience with art, but he envied those who did.  He had encountered some unique pieces on his travels, created by humans and nonhumans alike, and he’d read a bit about Kaminoan calligraphy once, but he certainly wasn’t the best judge of artistic talent.  Regardless, the idea of entering a place of art excited him.  The prospect of dabbling in it himself while they were there, however unlikely, made him glad he scarfed down those delicious meat pies in someone’s bathroom earlier. 

Once they were inside, they were greeted by a well-built Durian with blue scales.  He led them through a dimly-lit hallway covered in glowing neon letters, most of which Kylo couldn’t make out, but that he found pleasant to look at.  They reached a large room at the end of the hallway, and the Durian motioned for he and Hux to enter first. 

Pristine sheets of expensive-looking white paper covered every wall of the room from top to bottom, as well as the ceiling and floor.  Like the hallway, the room was quite dim – lit only by a single glowing crystal hanging suspended by some sort of magic, not quite touching the ceiling. 

The Durian, as well as a few others, appeared carrying tools: all manner of brushes, bowls, paints, oils, and other objects Kylo couldn’t identify or even imagine how to use. 

They brought in a small desk as well, which they placed near the center of the room before arranging the tools on its surface.  When they were finished, all of them left but the one who greeted them.  Hux looked at Kylo and, perhaps sensing his confusion, spoke to the Durian.

“Show us how it works.”

The Durian grunted an affirmation, then took one of the larger brushes and dipped it in a bowl of red paint.  Kylo watched, fascinated as the Durian stepped forward and took an odd stance vaguely reminiscent of the martial arts, then flicked the brush so that the paint speckled the covered wall in an irregular, abstract pattern.  He repeated the motion many times, opting for different colors as he went on, until he was satisfied with the state of his creation.

It was lovely – probably the best Kylo had seen thus far. 

 The warm colors evoked the feeling of a summer afternoon, and the seemingly random patterns began to feel more calculated the longer he looked at it – the way it carried the eye from the top left, where the paint streaked diagonally like rays of sunlight towards the bottom right, where…well, Kylo wasn’t sure what the importance of the bottom right area was, but it looked nice.  He probably wouldn’t do so well as a professional art critic.

Hux hummed pleasantly at his side, and Kylo realized that he had forgotten the King’s presence entirely, so enraptured by the art as he was. 

“…and the Phosphoura ink?” Hux broke the silence.  The Durian artist turned to look at Hux as he wiped his hands on a small towel.  Kylo sensed a bit of apprehension from him, though he couldn’t imagine its source.

The artist sighed quietly, then made his way back to the desk.  “Didn’t think you knew about it,” he muttered.

“You’d be surprised by the kinds of rumors that reach the palace…don’t worry, we won’t tell.”  Hux winked at him.

The Durian didn’t seem to notice as he left the room, presumably to retrieve the ink.  He returned a few minutes later and set another bowl of a dark, viscous liquid upon the desk.  He dipped a second brush in it, then stepped up to the wall, choosing a spot that was relatively paint-free.  He raised his brush and began to paint in broad strokes.  He was much more methodical than before, to the point that his movements seemed almost unnatural.  When the Durian finally stepped back, Kylo couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The ink was _moving_.  On its own, and in a recognizable pattern: that of a flower bud opening and closing.

“Impressive,” Hux whispered.  “How does it work?”

The Durian hesitated to answer – it was obviously a touchy subject, or some kind of poorly-kept secret, perhaps.  “It is by the power of the Goddess Phosphoura.  This ink is made by mixing the seeds of her flower with an oil-based paint and oak leaves, then grinding them all up.  Those who create with it are allowed her sight for a short period, and the final product reflects that sight.”

“So in other words, the ink imitates the action of that which you wish to recreate?  Fascinating.  You may leave us now.”  Hux’s tone was gentle, but the Durian hurried out of the room as though he were frightened. 

Kylo continued to stare at the flower, mesmerized by the way the ink travelled back and forth across the paper. 

“Would you like to try it?”

“I – yes.  I would.”

Kylo wondered, briefly, if there was a point to it all.  He was a personal bodyguard, so it made sense for Hux to introduce him to the individuals he would be constantly interacting with.  Taking him to an obscure art studio where people painted with divine ink, however, hardly seemed relevant.

 Those thoughts and all others ceased when Kylo dipped his chosen brush in the Phosphoura ink, and then he was moving as if possessed.  He started with slow, graceful strokes, forming patterns his eyes didn’t recognize.  What was he writing? Drawing?  He didn’t know.  He did know – he knew he had to get it all out – everything else was inconsequential.  Before long, he was painting in short, quick strokes that left him short of breath.  He noted, distantly, that his arm was growing sore, but it didn’t matter.  He was almost finished –

Something touched his shoulder then.  “That’s enough!”

Hux’s voice rang in his ears, and with a start, Kylo noticed that he had dropped the brush on the ground.  His arm was most definitely sore.

“That’s enough,” Hux repeated, tightening his grip on Kylo’s shoulder.

Kylo looked up at him then, surprised to see something akin to fear on his face.  “I wasn’t finished,” he said, and Hux frowned, eyes darting between Kylo and the wall.

“You wouldn’t respond.  I was afraid the ink was affecting your mind in some way.”  Hux looked at the wall again and sighed.  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have suggested it.  I just thought that maybe…” Hux trailed off as he took a step back, eyeing the wall like it offended him.

Finally, Kylo turned to see it, inhaling sharply as he took it all in.

The entirety of his work was like one grotesque mass of pulsating, oozing flesh.  Each part moved at the same time, stretching outward towards the edges and shrinking back at a pace that was reminiscent of a beating heart.  It bled like one too: the ink at the bottom ran down to where it collected in a small puddle on the floor before moving back up to rejoin that which remained.  There were all sorts of markings Kylo assumed were words, but couldn’t read.  In one corner, there was a pair of rough, clawed hands reaching for one of the words and crushing it, then releasing it and repeating the action.  What Kylo assumed were lightning bolts struck a human-like figure repetitively as it cowered in fear.  A Dragon crashed into the side of a mountain, recovered, then crashed again.  Several figures stood in a circle around another, and then they were lying down, ink bleeding from each of them but the one in the center, which held a dripping object in its hand.  They stood again, and then they were dead again.  Phrases Kylo _could_ read grew and shrunk; phrases like “I’m sorry” and “Please don’t hate me.” 

He couldn’t move.  Fear gripped him, holding him in place.  He didn’t remember any of it; and for once, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Hux was pulling him along at some point, and Kylo didn’t stop him.  They were back out in the cool night air again before he spoke.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” Kylo answered honestly.  “What did they say?”

Hux looked confused.  “Who?”

“The words.”

Hux glanced back at the studio.  He didn’t answer.

“What did they say, Hux?”

Hux turned back to look at him, surprised, perhaps, by the way Kylo had addressed him so informally.  Finally, he relented. 

“I saw my name.”  He looked as if he was going to say more but decided against it.  “We should return to the palace.  It’s getting late.”

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Kylo was indeed exhausted.  It had been a very busy day, and he would need time to go over the names of all the people he had met.  He wasn’t sure what to think of the Phosphoura incident, so he chose not to think of it at all. 

But however much Kylo wanted to return to his room and burrow under all those plush covers Hux had left for him the day before, there was something else he needed to attend to first. 

Once they reached the palace, he excused himself from Hux’s presence, relieved by the lack of an objection from Hux, who simply yawned and continued on his way.

He hadn’t heard anything about Hux’s attacker; not since he had dragged them into the dungeon beneath the palace himself.  So far as he knew, Hux knew nothing as well.  Something was going on, and Kylo was bent on determining what that something was. 

As he was making his way down, a member of the palace intel stopped him.  “A moment, please.”

“What is it?” Kylo asked.  He was certain that, having been the one who captured their most recent prisoner, he was allowed in the dungeon even without explicit permission.

“We have a small _problem_ , if you will.  The prisoner you brought in has proved especially difficult to break.”

Ah, so that was why they hadn’t heard anything. 

“You want me to interrogate them.”

“Yes, but I would prefer you do it discretely.  That is, without the King’s knowledge.”

“…you do realize the extent of what you’re asking of me?”

“You’re reading into this too much.  Search my thoughts; you’ll see I mean no harm.”

“Oh, I see.  You’re too embarrassed to admit to him that you can’t do your job.”

The man said nothing, but it was apparent that Kylo had hit the mark. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.”  Kylo continued down the steps to the dungeon, aware that the other man was trailing close behind.  That wouldn’t do.  He turned to face the man again, convincing him with a wave of his hand that he was tired, and that he wasn’t going to follow Kylo any further. 

The guards at the entrance were similarly convinced that they hadn’t seen anyone entering or leaving.

The dungeon was just as Kylo expected it would be, cold and dark.  There weren’t any candles lit, but he wouldn’t need them.  The smell of blood was enough to lead him to the right cell.  After all, there were no other living prisoners being kept there.

Kylo stepped up to the bars, extending his arms out in front of him so he wouldn’t collide into them face-first.  “Who are you?” He asked.

No response.

“I know you’re awake.”

Again, no response.

Kylo sighed.  “I can just take what I want from your mind.  However, that could prove to be an unpleasant experience for both of us, so I’d prefer if you participated willingly.”

“Go ahead,” answered a voice that was neither masculine nor feminine.

“What?”

“Go ahead.  I won’t stop you.  I see one of two things happening:  you’ll take what you want, and then you’ll run back to that _rabid cur_ you call King, bragging about how you accomplished what none of the others could, and then he’ll have me executed.” 

Kylo was surprised by the tone of their voice.  Every word was practically dripping with venom.  It was becoming apparent that the attack was a personal one, not political. 

“And the other?” Kylo asked.

“Or,” they continued, “You will understand, if you claim to have even a shred of compassion in your heart, that there is nothing in that man worth protecting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was especially fun to write, but awkward Hux is always fun. Things get serious next time.
> 
> Chapter Warning Explanation:  
> I tend to consider anything that creeps me out while I write it as something which merits a warning. Near the end of this chapter, Kylo gets to mess with a kind of magical ink that animates the finished product and sometimes takes control of artists and forces them to create things that represent their hidden feelings, deepest fears, biggest regrets, etc. Kylo ends up making something symbolic of his darkest memories without actually remembering anything, which is comprised of disturbing imagery and phrases.


	6. Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy sorry it took so long. I hope this chapter's content makes up for the long wait!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Mentions of self-harm  
> Hallucinations

 

Hux had made a huge mistake.

Body tight and curled into something resembling the fetal position, Hux tried to swallow back the potent bile rising in his throat.  He had already vomited twice.  There shouldn’t have been anything left in his stomach for it to protest so vehemently.

Why did he gorge himself on those meat pies again?  He knew they were inedible.  He knew what the consequences would be.  He also knew just how much he would regret it.

Hux found himself doing all sorts of things he normally wouldn’t after Kylo’s sudden appearance.  He would like to blame it all on the knight himself, as he was beyond certain that the unnatural calm he felt when the two were close came from Kylo, whether he was aware of it or not, but the memory of Maul’s voice echoed in his head again: “ _Because he reminds you of someone you once knew.”_

Someone Hux hated, to be precise.

 _“Are you sure about that?”_   The words weren’t spoken aloud, but Hux thought he could detect just a trace of amusement accompanying the sudden intrusion into his mind. 

Ignoring Maul, Hux shook his previous thoughts from his mind, focusing again on the discomfort he felt and drawing his blanket over his head as if to shield himself from Maul’s long-distance scrutiny.  He was quiet, but Hux could still feel his presence.

 _“You are unwell.”_   Maul’s voice rang out again.  Hux had known him long enough to recognize that it was neither a question nor an invitation, which meant it must have been an accusation.

“I won’t be doing that again,” Hux spoke tentatively, embarrassed to have been caught in such a state so easily prevented.

_“Yes, you will.  You always do.”_

“What?  No, this is the first and last time I do something so foolish.  It was just a silly indulgence… “

_“You’re punishing yourself.”_

Hux’s blood ran cold.  Of course Maul had noticed - Hux could never hide anything from him.  Not even the things he tried to hide from himself. 

 _“You’re always punishing yourself: nonexistent workloads, repressed emotions, sharpened blades, induced illnesses.  You punish yourself even when you’ve done nothing to warrant it.”_ Maul paused, gave Hux a moment to process his words. _“Why? Do you enjoy it?  Does it keep you going? Make you feel alive?”_

The event of Maul calling him out on his self-destructive behavior was almost as surreal as it was terrifying.  Hux didn’t respond, frightened into silence and unsure if the way his insides were trying to eject themselves from his body was due to food poisoning or what Maul had said.

_“Do not worry.  I am no judge of how others choose to live their lives.  I am merely concerned that your...methods could incapacitate you, or perhaps interfere with your relationships.  Particularly the one you have with your new bodyguard.”_

Hux intended to ask what he meant by that, but Maul was already changing the subject before Hux could form a complete sentence.

_“Have you had any strange dreams recently?”_

Immediately, Hux remembered the notes he’d written the day before.  He tossed the top edge of his blanket forward, attempting to crawl out of it the rest of the way, but flinched in pain as his lower body protested the movement.  If he couldn’t get out of the bed, there was no way he was going to make it to the desk on the other side of the room.

_“Don’t worry about that,” Maul reassured him.  “I can just skim through your memories, if you’ll allow me.”_

“Go ahead.”

Hux felt something akin to an itch in the back of his mind, and he scratched at the back of his head, pointlessly.  It faded quickly, and Hux stopped scratching at it.

 _“I see now.  You think this dream supports your theory about Kylo Ren, correct?”_ Maul asked.

“I suspect that it may.  And I wouldn’t call it a theory.  Doing so would imply that I have real, tangible evidence.  It’s no more than the most reasonable explanation I could come up with.” 

_“So what is that explanation, in your own words?”_

Hux was embarrassed again, glad that no one was there to see the color rise in his cheeks.  No matter how many times Maul assured him that he wasn’t to be judged in any way, Hux didn’t want to admit what he merely hoped to be true.   Maul continued to wait, and Hux got the feeling that he wasn’t going to leave without an answer.  Hux scrabbled for the right words to say, vehemently ignoring those that came to mind first:  words like destiny and soulmates.  Maul let him mentally writhe about in distress for some time before speaking again.

_“You may be on to something.”_

“...really?  How so?” Hux asked, relieved that Maul was drawing his own conclusions instead of insisting Hux embarrass himself further.  He felt an intense twinge in his abdomen then, and with gritted teeth, he curled in on himself tighter than before.  If Maul noticed, he didn’t address it.

_“I do believe there is a unique connection between the two of you.  It is reminiscent of a type of force bond most commonly shared between lovers.”_

Of the things Hux expected to hear, an immensely gratifying confirmation of his secret desires was not one of them. It didn’t mean Hux would ever admit them out loud: not to Maul, and certainly not to Kylo himself, but it was still nice to hear.

 _“However,”_ Maul continued, before Hux could get too excited, _“I believe the comparisons you’ve drawn between Kylo Ren and the one who betrayed you are unwarranted.”_

Again, Hux was caught off guard, though he really shouldn’t have been.  Maul allowed nothing to slip by him.  Hux began to think it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that Maul knew everything about him, even the most inconsequential of details.

_“These similarities you have noticed between the two are purely superficial.  Pseudo-human force sensitives with draconic blood are indeed rare, but the chances of you having encountered Kylo Ren before, let alone actually knowing him, are incredibly low.  Therefore, you should not pass judgment upon him so soon.”_

Maul was probably right, as he often was.  But there was still the matter of Kylo’s missing memories and the disturbing mess that was Hux’s name - his real name, standing out amongst the many scrawled phrases and requests and apologies and _please don’t hate me –_

 _“I’ll send the physician,”_ Maul abruptly announced.  Hux didn’t protest.

 

 

\---

 

 

Kylo was torn.  He knew he shouldn’t have been, but he was. 

The prisoner’s story was packed full of valuable information on the King’s recent past - his dealings and relationships as well as what kind of person was behind that calm facade.  Their account matched everything Kylo had been told about the King and much of what he had personally experienced.  The very moment he had first seen the King, the man was drenched in blood.  His excuse, that he had been fighting a bear, not hunting but _fighting_ , was incredibly dubious.  On the surface, Hux was consistently busy, but further examination revealed that most of what Hux worked on was already completed, unimportant, or both.  Just the previous morning, Hux had neglected his duties altogether, choosing instead to drag Kylo around on a “tour” - one which ended with Kylo forgetting who and where he was for an uncomfortable amount of time, presumably bringing all of his inner turmoil into the light for the King to interpret as he wanted.  The ways in which the prisoner had described Hux - bloodthirsty, greedy, arrogant - they all coincided with his actions in some way.  The authenticity of their story wasn’t the problem. 

The problem was that for some reason, despite everything Kylo knew and everything he needed to know, he didn’t want their story to be true.

If it weren’t for the prisoner, Kylo might not have noticed how much he enjoyed being near Hux.  He was attractive, intelligent, a true no-nonsense type yet witty at times, and most importantly, he didn’t look at Kylo any differently after he became aware of his self-harm habit.  He claimed to have done the same, showing his own scars as evidence, and that he understood.

If there was anything else Kylo wanted more than his memories, it was to be understood.

Of those who did, there was only Eris.   One of Kylo’s most trusted knights, Eris was serious-minded and intelligent.  He was also very quiet, often willing to listen to Kylo’s complaints about everything from his memory loss to the way his right eye began to twitch almost painfully whenever someone was grilling copperfish nearby.  Like Kylo suspected of Hux, Eris was born female but chose to live as a male.  Kylo didn’t particularly think anything of it - it wasn’t like he had any previous beliefs to affect his judgment.  But if he had learned anything by being so close to Eris as he once was, it was that certain qualities and behaviors which were deserving of suspicion in most were sometimes indicative of nothing more than a disparity between a being’s chosen identity and the one that was forced upon them by others. 

While the prisoner had provided plenty of information Kylo might not have found otherwise, there was still so much more to be discovered.  His motives, for example.  Why did Hux murder so many officials and members of the royal family if he was just going to waste his time as King with pointless matters and unimportant people?  The prisoner had mentioned something called _Starkiller_ , a weapon or spell of some sort, but Hux didn’t appear to be working towards it at all.  Either Hux was just as misunderstood as Kylo, if not more so, or someone else was doing all the real work behind the scenes.  Someone Hux trusted enough to leave to their own devices with very little instruction, if any at all.  Someone the prisoner claimed to have seen with Hux on the night of their elder brother’s murder: the witch, Sabrina.

Kylo stopped his pacing.  Unwilling to make his way back to Hux’s quarters so soon after his encounter with the prisoner, Kylo chose the main hall as the place to ponder his next move.  The guards eyed him curiously at first but went back to minding their own business as they realized Kylo was neither doing anything illegal nor interested in speaking to them.

Kylo wasn’t sure how long he had been roaming when he had finally made a decision. 

It was much too early to make a move.  Many of the palace staff were still disturbed by his presence in the palace.  Some of them would remain that way indefinitely, Kylo knew, but he needed the rest to be comfortable with his existence first if nothing else.  Hux himself appeared to trust Kylo to some degree already, but it could be no more than a ruse.  Kylo needed to know if he was sincere, and who his outside contacts were.  The witch was a good lead - better than anything Kylo could have hoped for, so he would start with her first.  

But it was late, possibly morning already if the gradual lightening of the sky through the glass ceiling was anything to go by.  He would have plenty of time to plan later.  Sleep was more important at that moment.

Kylo brushed against the nearest guard’s mind as he left the main hall, mildly amused by the relief he found there.  They assumed nothing, of course, as they had no reason to. 

When he stepped into Hux’s quarters again, Kylo was surprised to see the palace physician dragging a chair from the main sitting room towards the bedroom. 

“Is something wrong?”  Kylo asked, unbidden concern finding its way into his voice as he followed closely behind her.

“He’s quite ill.  Food poisoning, I’ve been told,” she replied without looking back at him.

“Told?  By who?”

Kylo flinched back as the bedroom door was shut in his face.  He understood the concept of physician-patient confidentiality, but he was the King’s personal bodyguard, wasn’t he?  He at least deserved to know who had found Hux in such a condition.  So far as he knew, he was the only one allowed inside Hux’s personal chambers.  Someone had either entered uninvited, a concerned guard perhaps, or someone had checked up on the King remotely -

Ah, Maul. 

Satisfied at his own conclusion, Kylo left the physician to her work.  Just as he reached his room, however, he was distracted by the subtle sound of paper sliding along the floor.  He turned back, finding the source in the form of an envelope lying just a few inches away from the front doors.  Someone must have just slid it through the small space underneath the doors, presumably without the guards caring, or perhaps without them even noticing. 

Kylo stared at it for a moment, overwhelmed by curiosity.  He took a glance at the bedroom door opposite his, seeing that it remained firmly shut.  Without a second thought, he lifted the envelope up into the air and then into his open hand.  Suddenly nervous, he moved to sit upon the mess of blankets Hux had provided him with - too many, really - and closed the door behind him as gently as possible with the force.

 The letter wasn’t addressed to anyone as there obviously wasn’t any need, and the sender had refrained from printing their name as well.  Kylo merely stared at its blank surface for a moment, growing more nervous as time passed.  So far, he had only been doing what was expected of him as a bodyguard.  If he opened the envelope, he would be crossing into new territory.  He would have to be much more careful with everything he did from then on.

After he began to calm down once again, Kylo gently tore the envelope open from one end to the other and reached inside, removing a single sheet of white paper.  He unfolded it slowly, unsurprised to find that the message was incredibly short and just as vague.

 

_“Meet me in the forest tomorrow evening.  It’s urgent._

_P.S.  I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again - I promise.”_

 

There was no signature, but Kylo had a feeling that it was from the witch he was told about, Sabrina.  Even if it was from someone else, it was still a step in the right direction.  The more of Hux’s contacts Kylo could discover, the better.  If he found himself with too many people to monitor, he could request aid from the other knights as needed.

First things first: Hux couldn’t know about the letter. 

Kylo couldn’t just shred it - it could prove to be of some use later.  He put the letter back inside the envelope then scanned the room for a place to hide it, somewhere Hux would never think of looking if he ever found out about its existence.  He settled for the desk at the other end of the room, gently sliding the letter underneath it until it was no longer visible.  It was very unlikely that Hux would feel the need to have the room cleaned so thoroughly that the envelope was revealed. 

Thoroughly exhausted after such a long day, Kylo removed his helmet and began to undress. It wasn’t until he had successfully burrowed underneath the heap of covers Hux had gifted him that he began to feel a bit of something akin to guilt.

 

 

\---

 

 

“So which one should we try first?”  Someone asked.

With a start, Hux realized that he was no longer curled up in bed and that he was somehow moving.  A quick, panicked look around revealed that he was riding on the back of a horse-drawn carriage.  To his right was Sabrina, who had just spoken and was looking uncharacteristically bright and chipper, and to his left was - 

Hux’s heart nearly exploded out of his chest.

Quickly, before he could recommit the face to memory, Hux averted his gaze, intent on forgetting he was even there.  Wherever there was.

It didn’t take long for Hux to recognize their location as one of the many stops he and his friends had made along their journey to the south.  It was a small, easily forgettable village of no more than three hundred human inhabitants.  Despite its size, it was a vibrant community known especially for its unique variety of street food.

 After what seemed like an eternity, there was a voice from Hux’s left.

“I can’t decide - it all looks so good.  What do you think, Hux?”

Hux hated how much that rich, rumbling voice affected him even after everything that had happened, after all that time he had spent trying to forget. 

Hux refused to answer, keeping his mouth shut and his eyes down like his life depended on it.  It was just a dream.  It had to be.

Sabrina spoke again, but Hux tuned her out.  He desperately did not want to relive any part of his past in such detail, dream or otherwise.  He pinched his left arm with enough force to break the skin, but was disappointed when he felt only the ghost of pain. 

“Wake up!”  Hux hissed at himself.  “Wake up,” he repeated, adding a hard slap to the face for extra emphasis.  Again, he barely registered the pain that should have followed.

“Yeah, that smells delicious!”  Said Sabrina.  “We can try the noodles later.”

To make things worse, Hux jumped from the carriage and began walking towards one of the food vendors without consciously doing so.  It was like he was no longer in control of the lower half of his body, forced to watch its movements with no input. 

“For the love of Ephraigm, please wake up!” Hux shouted, wholly unconcerned with the potential reactions of those around him.

Hux continued to follow Sabrina against his will, still avoiding the man on his left with every fiber of his being.  Neither of them seemed to notice his strange behavior, and they continued to speak as though Hux had been giving them plenty of input the entire time. 

Fucking hells, he was really about to relive the entire memory, wasn’t he?  Was it the food poisoning that was causing it?  It had certainly never happened before.  There must have been some kind of hallucinogen in those meat pies, Hux was sure of it.

Hux watched as Sabrina purchased the beef and chicken wraps for the three of them, mildly attracted to the scent of them even with everything that was happening.  Those wraps were probably the best thing Hux had ever eaten.  If only he had been aware of his inability to digest such things back then.  He could have avoided a great deal of pain and embarrassment.  He hoped the nullified pain thing applied to what was to come as well.

Sabrina handed Hux a wrap, which he took without meaning to.  It seemed the rest of him wasn’t fully under his control either.  He stared at it as they continued walking, tempted.  It was just a dream after all.  Surely a single bite wouldn’t hurt him.

Hux was seconds away from shoving the entire wrap in his mouth when he realized that they were no longer in the village.  It was nearly night, and Sabrina was knocking on the door of a dilapidated shack somewhere deep within the forest.

How long had they been walking?  He remembered it taking nearly two hours to get from the edge of the forest to the village, where they were just moments ago.  Perhaps it was unrealistic to expect the entire thing to play out just like it had back then.  Dreams were not normally so linear and structured.

As Hux stepped inside the shack, something crashed into him, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Armie!” 

“No... please, no.  Not this.”  Hux muttered, desperate for it to end.  Against his better judgment, he looked down at the excited child clinging to his waist, half expecting to see a headless corpse.

“Whaddya bring us?” Jordan asked, smiling up at Hux like nothing was wrong.  Like he wasn’t dead.  “It smells really good!”

Hux smiled back.  Even in a dream, Jordan’s mood was infectious. “Here,” he said.  “You can have mine.”  Hux offered Jordan the wrap he’d been holding onto, unsure if he would even respond.

“Thanks!”  Jordan grinned, accepting the food before running back to sit between Sabrina and Marco.

Instead of joining the others, Hux chose to lean against the wall and watch, infinitely grateful that he was in control of his own actions again.

It felt like years were passing as Hux watched the scene unfold before him.  He would have been seated across from Marco, laughing as Jordan tried and spectacularly failed many times to pronounce “Armadillo” correctly.  Camilla had suggested they play a more child-friendly version of Truth or Dare so that Jordan wouldn’t feel left out.  As a result, the dares were much tamer than usual.  At one point, Sabrina had dared Valentio to kiss Ophelia, as everyone was aware they had feelings for one another.  The two had then left after providing the excuse that they were both “unbearably thirsty,” despite having fed just the day before.  They weren’t fooling anyone; not even Jordan, who had inquired as to how vampires were born soon after they left. 

It was around that time when Hux began to feel ill, when Sabrina had convinced him to lie down while she concocted an antidote.  It didn’t work, and Sabrina spent the rest of the night mixing different ingredients and forcing Hux to try every combination of them, which only made him feel worse.  He didn’t remember much after that.

It was unreal just how detailed the dream was - evidence of Hux’s failure to forget.  How was he to ever move on if he remembered events so far in the past as if they had just happened yesterday?  He pondered this for a while, moving on to his plans for the day (if he ever woke up) when he became bored of it.  Anything to keep himself distracted from that voice he was finding more and more difficult to ignore. 

Eventually, Hux began to lose that self-awareness he’d held onto since the beginning.  Maintaining conscious thought while dreaming was exhausting and he couldn’t wake himself up, so Hux relinquished the bit of control he had left and just let it happen. 

 

 

\---

 

 

Hux was in bed, drenched in his own sweat and gasping in pain when a large hand came to rest upon his forehead.

“Hux?” Someone asked, concern apparent in their voice.  “Hux, are you alright?” 

He tried to answer, but he couldn’t speak.  He settled for the next best option, grabbing the hand that was touching him.

“...Hux.  Can you hear me?”

 _Of course I can hear you_ , Hux wanted to say, but his voice wasn’t working.  His eyes didn’t seem to be working either - or were they just closed?  He was beginning to feel afraid.  Everything had been just fine earlier when he was teasing Sabrina about her taste in fashion.  Hux tightened his grip on the comforting hand, hoping the action would get the message across.

“You’re dreaming, Hux.  Wake up.”

Hux felt his entire body tense at that.  The beginnings of fear blossomed into real terror then, and he tried to speak again, tried to open his eyes.  Tried to tell whoever had spoken that no, he wasn’t dreaming.  It was all real.  He may have been sick at the moment, but he was happy.  Everyone was happy, alive and safe - all of them.  Hux, Sabrina, Camilla, Valentio, Isaiah, Ophelia, Marco, Jordan, and…

“Ben.”  Hux finally said aloud.  The way the hand flinched in his grasp felt real, and so did the tears streaming down his face.  “Ben,” Hux repeated.  He started chanting it like a mantra, like the gods would return everything to him if he just kept saying it.  If he just said it once for every second he had spent trying to forget it, everyone would come back.  Ben would come back.

Ben always came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben did something awful.


	7. Armie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have an extra-long chapter this time!
> 
> Reminder that * = More information provided in the end notes
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> More creepy magic  
> Minor Character Death  
> *Implied Past Major Character Death (?)  
> Graphic Violence (Combat)  
> *Implied Past Hux x Original Female Character
> 
> As always, let me know if you think I missed something.

Kylo had woken a bit earlier than usual, giving himself ample time to prepare for his inevitable encounter with the witch later that evening. Normally, he wouldn’t be concerned for his own safety. He was a skilled warrior and force user who had never been bested in battle, but this Sabrina was rumored to be well-versed in the arcane arts and black magic – a combination that could prove difficult to handle even for someone like him.

It was said that black magic emulated the dark side of the force to a certain degree. It was also said that the arcane arts were, in fact, a particular set of spells and incantations created by the original Jedi for use by those who were not gifted with force sensitivity, but who were otherwise magically competent.

If the prisoner was correct in their assumptions about Sabrina’s importance, it would be wise to assume that she was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

Kylo had spent at least a couple of hours gleaning information on the arcane arts and black magic from the palace library’s selection before returning to the King’s quarters, frustrated by how vague and sometimes contradictory the spellbooks were. He hoped the King would know of a few privately-owned libraries or bookstores with better selections.

Realizing the King hadn’t yet left his bedroom, Kylo knocked lightly on the door a few times, waiting for an invitation or some kind of acknowledgment at the very least. He received no response so he tried again, just a bit louder than before. Silence, again.

“Your Highness?” Kylo tried with feigned concern. He didn’t want to risk angering the man by intruding, but he didn’t quite feel like fetching someone else to do the intruding for him, either. With a resigned sigh, he gently pushed the door open with his fingertips.

The first thing Kylo noticed was that the bed was empty.

The sheets were all tangled and mostly hanging off the opposite side of the bed, but the King wasn’t anywhere to be seen. That was strange - Kylo was certain he hadn’t left the bedroom that morning, and there was no evidence of him having exited from the balcony.

Kylo was just turning to leave when he heard a pained groan from somewhere in the room.

Kylo tiptoed carefully around the bed to find the King lying on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him. His forehead shone with sweat and he had a death grip on the sheets he was wound up in. He was still unconscious.

He must have rolled off the bed in his sleep somehow.

“...Hux?” Kylo addressed him softly as he knelt next to him on the ground.

He was answered with another groan as Hux turned away from him. Kylo shook him lightly by the shoulder. Hux recoiled, shifting further away from Kylo, but remained asleep.  
Perhaps sending for the physician again was for the best.

Kylo tried to stand then, but Hux latched onto his sleeve with his right hand, forcing Kylo back down onto his knees. Kylo hesitated before attempting to free himself, gently working Hux’s fingers open one by one and lowering his arm back down. Hux’s other arm shot out, grabbing him by the collar this time.

Kylo huffed in irritation, tilting his head down as far as his helmet would allow, but his field of vision was too narrow, hindered by his visor. He tried pulling the offending arm off of him, but Hux held tight, fingers hooked on the edge of his cowl.

Kylo removed the glove from his right hand, dropping it on the ground next to him before placing his hand on Hux’s forehead. Unsurprisingly, it was much warmer than it should have been.

“Hux?” Kylo tried once more. “Hux, are you alright?”

Hux murmured something unintelligible before finally releasing him. There was no time for Kylo to react, however, as Hux reached for Kylo’s right hand with both of his, holding it there against his forehead.

“...Hux. Can you hear me?”

Hux was nearly panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His lips were moving, but the only sound he made was that of his irregular breathing. He squeezed Kylo’s hand once.

“You’re dreaming, Hux. Wake up.”

Again, no response.

Kylo didn’t want to be forceful - not yet at least, but he wasn’t seeing any other options. He grabbed one of Hux’s wrists with his free hand and pulled as hard as he could without risking unnecessary damage. Hux whimpered pathetically but refused to move. Kylo gnashed his teeth, exasperated. If Hux continued to be difficult, he was either going to have to break something or otherwise mind-trick the still-unconscious man into complying.

The mind-trick was a much better option as Kylo wasn’t sure if he could properly explain himself should he injure the King while he was already in pain to begin with. He wasn’t sure how exactly it would work as he had never done it to a sleeping person before, but there was no harm in trying.

He shifted closer, resting a gloved hand against Hux’s sweaty forehead before reaching out to him, dipping carefully into his subconscious. He was met with a kaleidoscope of shapes, sounds, and colors - all of them blurry and disconnected. People were speaking, it seemed, and Kylo thought briefly that he could hear his own voice echoing among all the others, but he didn’t let himself get distracted.

_You will let me go, Hux._

At the silent directive, something changed. The many shapes and colors faded, as did all the voices but one. It grew louder, more distinct - until there was no denying that it was indeed Kylo’s own. The words, however, were indecipherable.

_Let go._

Something shattered, and for no more than a second, Kylo was standing before himself - facial scar notably absent - before everything returned to normal and he was back in the King’s bedroom.

Kylo released a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding as he came back to himself. He was relieved to find that the trick had worked, seeing that Hux had released his collar, but that relief didn’t last long.

“Ben.”

Kylo flinched at the unexpectedly clear sound of Hux’s voice. The name was one he was certain he had never heard before, and yet it still felt oddly familiar somehow. Hux began to repeat it, each utterance more desperate-sounding than the last. He was also starting to cry.

It was not a situation Kylo was equipped to deal with.

“I can’t,” Hux gasped between choked breaths. “I can’t let go.”

It may have been said in response to Kylo’s earlier demand, but he seriously doubted Hux was referring to their present situation.

The fevered man lying before him was not the arrogant, conniving King he’d been warned of. He was more of a broken, distraught mess of a man who appeared to lament his ability to move on from something - to let go. Kylo thought briefly of their conversation two days earlier, when Hux had expressed envy of Kylo’s amnesia, and of those pale scars Hux hadn’t been ashamed to show him. He realized, suddenly, that the reason the prisoner had very little to say of Hux’s personal life may have been because such information didn’t fit their narrative.

Or perhaps he was thinking too much into something irrelevant.

Even if the King’s history was a true sob story, it didn’t excuse the things he had done. Snoke had warned Kylo not to trust him for a reason. The more he learned about him, the less trustworthy Hux appeared, but…

Kylo found himself _wanting_ to trust him more and more.

It was completely illogical, and yet he wanted it like nothing he could remember wanting before. If only Kylo had met him somewhere different, as someone else and at a different time - then maybe, maybe they could have been friends or even something more. The gods simply hadn’t allowed it to happen like that - and they probably never would, but there was no point in wasting precious time lamenting what could have been.

Hux said nothing else, but silent tears continued to run down his face. His grip was more relaxed, and Kylo watched with relief as his hands grew slack before dropping back down to his sides.

Kylo immediately fled the room once he was freed.

 

\---

 

It was uncharacteristically cold that afternoon, so cold that Kylo felt a bit chilled despite all the heavy layers of clothing he wrapped himself in. Most of the passerby were similarly bundled up, though some belonging to certain races appeared wholly unaffected by the harsh weather.

It was a hidden blessing - many of the residents had chosen to remain indoors and keep warm, greatly reducing the amount of crowding and allowing Kylo to travel more quickly. Like the guards back at the palace, those who noticed Kylo avoided him as much as possible, and he arrived at the last bookstore in no time.

He’d been to two other locations already, but he hadn’t managed to find anything related to black magic at either of them. The owner of the first claimed to have an entire section dedicated to the arcane arts, but it included no more than four incredibly dubious journals written by an infamous elf and a few historical novels. The second shop had a better selection, but it was nearly identical to that of the palace library. However, there was also a well-worn arcane spellbook on display in the back room. The shopkeeper had insisted that it wasn’t for sale, but that issue was easily resolved. Kylo had convinced the man that he had been meaning to gift the book to the Master of the Knights of Ren all along.

It was a remarkable find - chock full of nearly everything Kylo had been missing from the library’s selection and more. If he was lucky, the last shop would have something on black magic that wasn’t occult-related, as that tended to be more of a watered-down version of true black magic. Eris had shown Kylo some occult magic before, as he had dabbled in it a bit himself before joining the Knights of Ren, but Kylo wasn’t particularly impressed.

Upon reaching the shop, Mardis Antel, he was alarmed to find that all the windows were dark. He hadn’t considered that the shop might close early or perhaps never open in the first place. It made sense, what with the cold and the substantially lower number of potential customers, but Kylo desperately needed access. Just to make sure, he knocked on the door, waiting to see if anyone would let him in. Some shopkeepers lived in their stores as they had been their homes first and foremost. It was possible that the owner of the building would allow Kylo to browse their stock if he promised to buy something - if they wouldn’t, he would make them. He just needed them to open the door first. Kylo was reasonably certain he couldn’t mind-trick someone through a wall no matter how hard he tried.

To his surprise, the door creaked open though there was no one on the other side. He hesitated in the doorway, curious as to what kind of magic was at work when a voice echoed from somewhere further in.

“Don’t be shy now...come on in.”

Out of habit, Kylo nodded once and stepped inside. The door shut itself once he did, the sound of it echoing throughout the small, dark room. It was nigh impossible to see anything, though Kylo could smell the comforting odor of centuries-old books all around him.

“I’m looking for spellbooks. Do you have any on black magic?” Kylo asked, unsure of where he should be looking or who he was speaking to.

Someone chuckled in the darkness. The sound was borderline unnatural, as if made by two or more people at once. It made Kylo deeply uncomfortable, though he was sure its source was harmless.

“Of course, child. I have everything you need, everything you want, and everything you do not. Concentrate - what you seek will call to you. You need only answer.”

Kylo’s hackles rose at being called a child, but he said nothing in response. Nothing they had said warranted one, and he didn’t have the time to encourage a disembodied voice’s cryptic nonsense.

Kylo turned to the right, stretching his hands out in front of him to keep from walking into anything. He touched something solid and felt around it, confirming that it was a small bookcase. It took him a couple minutes to get a solid grip on one of the books, but he somehow managed to snag the end of it on something, causing a miniature avalanche of books to come crashing down. He froze, book in hand as he cursed himself internally. He expected some kind of verbal reprimand, but one never came.

It wasn’t until he tried to raise the book up to his face that Kylo realized he would have no way of knowing what the hell he was holding while he remained inside. He supposed he could take a few at a time and step outside to skim through them…

“Concentrate - what you seek will call to you. You need only answer.”

The voice rang out again, startling Kylo intro dropping the book onto the ground with the others he’d knocked over. It was eery how the phrase was repeated, like it was a perfect auditory replica of the first time it was spoken. It was almost like it wasn’t being spoken aloud, rather echoing around in Kylo’s head like a perfect memory.

“Concentrate -”

“Alright, stop! I understand!” Kylo wasn’t entirely sure, but the voice seemed to be telling him to use the force, not his eyes. He briefly wondered if the other customers were treated the same way, or if they were simply left alone in the dark to fend for themselves.

It was no wonder Kylo had such difficulty finding the place at first. Maul had told him of it and given him somewhat vague directions, but none of the strangers Kylo stopped to ask about it had ever even heard of it.

Kylo chose a spot on the floor, clearing the fallen books out of the way with his foot before sitting there cross-legged. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, clearing his mind and opening it simultaneously.

Immediately, Kylo was struck by how oblivious he’d been to the powerful force signature of the location. It was nearly as strong as the one back at Sutah Destuya on Mt. Sloahn, where Snoke had lived for hundreds of years. Kylo would have never expected such a place to exist right in the middle of Septentrio.

As he focused, Kylo became aware of perhaps hundreds of much smaller force signatures scattered about. They appeared to belong to the books themselves, which Kylo could then detect even in the dark. He couldn’t tell what they were about, but he knew precisely where and how many of them there were.

Kylo could hear a low humming sound, seemingly coming from somewhere behind him. The more he concentrated on it, the more it began to sound less like a hum and more like...whispering?

_alambhar krekhiva dus mol reverraeat oblus obbscurah ver mirhe..._

They were not words he was familiar with, but Kylo could feel they were calling out to him.

He was suddenly standing on the other side of the room, another book in hand when he came back to himself. He didn’t remember moving at all.

“Take it.” The voice echoed.

Kylo hesitated just a fraction of a second. He certainly wasn’t going to complain, as he didn’t actually bring any money with him - it was just odd. Somehow, the fact that the mysterious voice wasn’t requesting anything in return was stranger than everything else that had occurred since he’d stepped inside the shop.

“Go on - take it,” the voice repeated. “It belongs to you. Always has, always will.”

Kylo muttered his thanks before hurrying out of the already-open door back into the cold. He paused once he was outside again, letting his eyes re-adjust themselves to the light. A couple of ragged-looking wookies eyed him suspiciously as they passed by. Someone behind him muttered a nervous “excuse me” and stepped around him, and then he understood.

Kylo spun back around towards the shop, or rather where the shop should have been.

There was just an empty, narrow alleyway behind him. Embarrassment crept up on him as Kylo wondered if people could see him talking to himself and reaching for things that weren’t there, or if he’d suddenly appeared out of nowhere like a Bahssvich stepping out of a wormhole.

Maybe he had stepped into another dimension somehow. Or maybe the shop never really existed, was no more than a vivid force illusion. Among all the unknowns, one thing was for certain - the weight of the book in his hand was real.

He wasn’t far from the central plaza, so he made his way there in search of a comfortable place to sit. As it was still near freezing outside, most of the benches were unoccupied. He chose the closest one and sat down, taking a good look at the book he was holding for the first time.

The cover seemed rather innocuous at first - just a closed eye painted with heavy dark ink on a white background.

But then it moved.

The eye opened, the ink spreading in a way that wasn’t unlike that of the Phosphoura ink from the day before. The iris contained dozens of tiny, shimmering symbols and characters - all unreadable. Phosphoura ink must have been infused with some sort of black magic, or perhaps even born of it.

Kylo opened to a random page, surprised to find that even the words were written in the same ink. Diagrams were animated, and entire paragraphs appeared where they previously were not. Kylo had no idea what language any of it was written in. Considering his experience with the shop, however, he wasn’t disappointed. Instead, he stopped trying to read anything.

He opened his mind again, entering a semi-meditative state and flipped to the beginning of the book. He let his eyes wander the pages, not quite seeing what was on them but feeling their existence. Wordless information poured into his mind through the force as he flipped through the book. He didn’t stop or take a break, not even to let it all sink in. He kept going, anxious to reach the end until something caught his attention, momentarily breaking his perfect concentration and allowing him to read normally.

_The Blood Oath_

_The highest oath one may take. It is a mutual oath and lasts until all parties are deceased. Conditions may be changed at any time by either party and go into effect immediately. Breaking the oath induces extreme pain which fades over time. Not recommended under any circumstances - use at one’s own risk…_

Kylo read the section again, then a third time, and then once more.

_“a mutual oath…”_

Something about the word “mutual” was of importance, and he had no idea why.

The passage itself was easily understood, as it seemed to be describing the bond he had with the Supreme Leader. The fact that a black magic spellbook, something one would anticipate to encourage any and all forms of dangerous techniques, was warning against the use of a blood oath under any circumstances was troubling. Very troubling.

He couldn’t remember making it. The Supreme Leader had mentioned an oath upon his awakening, but he had said nothing about it being mutual. Kylo wasn’t entirely sure what that meant for their relationship, but he was sure the Supreme Leader had his reasons. He would have to ask him about it whenever he was called back to Sutah Destuyah. At the moment, there were only a few hours left until Kylo was to meet the witch. He would have plenty of time to worry about blood oaths later.

 

  
\---

 

  
Despite her best efforts not to, Sabrina couldn’t keep from pacing about the small clearing.

Surely Armie wasn’t still so upset with her that he wouldn’t show up. It wasn’t the first or even the worst argument they’d had. Whenever these things happened, Sabrina would give him space for as long as he needed to cool down, and then things went back to normal.

Except this hadn’t happened since Armie had become King.

They weren’t as close as they were before. Whether or not he was actively trying to distance himself from her, Sabrina could feel them growing distant. She still kept watch over him as she always did, but she had been distracted recently by professional matters. As the director of the Immigration Department, most of her work was easily delegated to her staff, leaving her with ample free time. Recently, however, she had found herself distracted by some unusual paperwork.

For the most part and almost entirely because of Armie, Septentrio was a wonderful city full of opportunity and fair treatment for all of its nonhuman citizens, regardless of race or species. Accommodations were made for those with unique needs in all aspects of everyday life. Any form of discrimination against a particular group was punishable by law, and so for the most part, citizens left their prejudices at the door. Strangely enough, there had been multiple cases over the past few days involving some form of discrimination against witches.

Sabrina wasn’t exactly surprised. After all, her experiences both inside and outside the city walls had shown her that those deemed the closest to humans tended to be the most susceptible to unwarranted discrimination. It just so happened that no other race was biologically closer to humans than witches - many of them were even born from humans. The only real differences between the two were the witches’ superior aptitude for magic and their much longer lifespans. These differences meant that witches often found themselves trapped between warring sides - human and nonhuman. They were just similar enough that they could fit in with either group, yet just different enough that they were never fully accepted by either.

After the humans had started their absurd witch hunts, Sabrina had left their side for good. She had found Armie early on - captured by some human priest and trapped for more than a decade with little to eat, the poor thing. She had destroyed the invisible barrier around Mt. Heresy, freeing Armie and convincing him to journey south with her.

They were incredibly lucky to have found one another. Without Sabrina, Armie would certainly have died. Even if he had managed to escape the mountain somehow, there was no possible way he could have made it very far with those horns of his. Sabrina always made sure to cast a mid-level glamours spell on Armie whenever they were out in public so as to not draw everyone’s attention. There were also many benefits that came along with having a pureblooded dragon on one’s side, and Armie’s fire magic was just as useful once they discovered his aptitude for it. Other nonhumans were also all the more likely to follow a witch and a dragon than they were just a witch.

Unfortunately, Sabrina’s position and efficiency as one of the highest-ranking officials didn’t have any effect on the public’s perception of witches as a whole. The number of reports delivered to her desk detailing incidents revolving around interactions between witches and other races had been steadily increasing in number over the past few days. Yesterday had been the worst so far with more than a dozen mixed reports of discrimination and even a few false reports of crimes committed by witches.

Sabrina’s request for Armie to meet with her in the clearing had as much to do with the escalating racial tension as it did with her desire to fix their relationship. She hoped the place where they used to do their plotting together would make him more comfortable, but it was possible it would have the opposite effect. Armie had changed since becoming King. He may have seen the letter and torn it up as soon as he realized who it was from.

He may have even decided that he never wanted to speak to her again.

Sabrina stopped her pacing, choosing instead to sit on a large tree stump near the middle of the clearing. She quickly lost track of time as she stared up at the moon. She was considering her options if it turned out that Armie really had decided to cut off all ties when she heard a rustling nearby.

Relieved, she turned towards the sound. “Armi -”

But it wasn’t him.

A stranger emerged from the forest, ducking beneath a low-hanging tree banch as they stepped into the clearing. They were dressed in all black from head to toe in what was reminiscent of a northern monk’s robes and a heavy-looking iron helmet.

Sabrina stood slowly and took a few cautious steps back. “Who are you?”

The stranger stopped just inside the clearing. “Unimportant. I came here to do the asking, not the answering.”

Sabrina swallowed nervously. She was quickly finding herself in a situation she had never been in before. Though she was a skilled combatant herself, something about the stranger’s tone of voice and the way they carried themselves unnerved her.

“Well if you’re not going to tell me who you are, you can at least tell me why you’re here.”

“Of course. I’m looking for information.” They stepped forward, right hand grasping the hilt of the weapon hanging from their belt. “You’re going to tell me everything you know.”

A sudden, intense need to follow the instruction and a wave of nausea rushed over her, but Sabrina recognized the spell for what it was and resisted.

“I won’t be telling you anything.” Sabrina drew her short swords and took a defensive stance.

The stranger unsheathed their own blade and spun it around once. “You aren’t leaving until my questions are answered.”

Sabrina waited just a few seconds to take in the physicality of her opponent: tall, broad-shouldered and well-muscled, their blows would be difficult to match in terms of raw strength. Sabrina would need something else working for her if the two were to be more evenly matched.

She raised her arms and turned her swords around so that the blades were facing outwards before joining her fists together.

 _“Allakh vaerminuh to hallaset espensa!”_ She shouted, inviting the dark mist to cloud the area around them. It would make her near impossible to detect while it lasted, especially if her opponent refused to remove their helmet.

But as a black-blooded witch, the dark mist may as well have been water vapor to her eyes. She moved swiftly yet quietly, zigzagging between clouds in the path to her target. It had the desired effect - her opponent was obviously disoriented, holding their position but turning their head about in every direction.

Sabrina waited until they had their back turned before leaping out with a shout, spinning midair and bringing both weapons down with as much force as she could muster, intent on cleaving her opponent in two. They sidestepped her in the knick of time, but both of her swords connected anyways and drew blood.

Her opponent growled a low, guttural sound and swung at her. She ducked and their sword carved a deep, clean line through the tree behind her.

As they recovered, she made use of their height difference and sliced their midsection twice before dodging a vertical slash. It caught the edge of her cloak and pinned her there, so she shrugged out of it and threw it at her opponent, blocking their view again as she slipped back into the mist.

The cloak was tossed aside angrily and stomped on as the stranger pulled their blade out of the ground. Upon realizing Sabrina was hidden again, they planted their feet firmly on the ground, one in front of the other, and raised their sword, holding it diagonally level with their chest. With the way they were positioned, it would be dangerous to risk another attack from behind. Suicidal, even.

Sabrina stayed low to the ground, keeping the front of her opponent in view as she approached from the left flank. Her opponent held their position and remained perfectly still, the subtle rise and fall of their chest the only indicator that they were a living being and not a statue.

She tightened her grip on both swords, then dove at her opponent. They were much faster to react this time, turning to face her directly and blocking the attack. Their swords clashed, the sound of it unpleasant enough to give Sabrina a headache, but it quickly faded. She held fast but her opponent bore down on her with all their weight, driving her down towards the ground. With all the energy she had left, Sabrina thrust outward with both arms, effectively breaking their guard and rendering them vulnerable for no more than a second.

Thinking fast, she jammed both swords into their lower abdomen from below. Her opponent howled in pain, and Sabrina rolled out of the way of an answering but weak and uncoordinated swing from the left.

She made space between them again, still wary despite the way the fight seemed to be going in her favor. That move would have been an instant kill for most, but her opponent was still standing. To her surprise, they dropped their sword to the ground and reached for both of the swords impaling them, taking no more than a single stuttering breath before pulling them out in one motion and throwing them to the side. They were bleeding profusely but didn’t seem all that concerned. They extended an arm out towards their fallen sword from where they stood, pulling it towards them without actually touching it. Sabrina watched, horrified as she finally realized just what she was up against.

I’m going to die.

The thought appeared from nowhere, and she shook her head to banish it.

She couldn’t give up so easily. It didn’t matter if her opponent was a force user or a Jedi or whatever. The stranger hadn’t told her what kind of information they wanted from her, but they didn’t need to. The only information Sabrina had that was of any value was that of the King’s secret dealings. She had heard of the assassination attempt - had stressed over it for hours until someone had assured her that Armie was perfectly safe - and it was very likely that this stranger was in cahoots with the captured assassin.

She couldn’t let them have anything. No matter what.

 _“Allakh vaerminuh to scoure metaphaset.”_ Sabrina called. The dark mist flowed around her, forming a pair of onyx short swords in her waiting hands nearly identical to the others.

The stranger sighed, loud enough that Sabrina could clearly hear it despite the distance between them.

“I’ve had enough of this.”

They mimicked Sabrina’s earlier motion as best they could, blade turned outward as they pressed their own fists together and shouted.

_“Allakh vaerminuh to hallaset dispella!”_

Sabrina lowered her swords, watching helplessly as the dark mist faded away.

Her opponent charged right for her. Quickly, she cast her favorite void spell, Agilleiru, and met them in the middle. Their swords clashed once more, but Sabrina was better prepared this time - she didn’t allow her opponent to force her down again. The clang of steel against onyx echoed throughout the clearing for some time, but Sabrina eventually grew tired.

She misstepped and took an elbow to the face, dropping one of her swords in the process. It dissolved back into a dark cloud before disappearing altogether. Chest heaving, she took a couple steps back and tightened her grip on the sword she still held.

The stranger let her. “Give up - you know you can’t win. Answer my questions and I’ll consider letting you live.”

Sabrina took several deep breaths before releasing her weapon and letting it dissolve. The stranger didn’t sheathe their sword, but they took a more relaxed stance. Sabrina closed her eyes, aware that they were saying something but ignoring them, focusing instead on the feeling of her own blood coursing through her veins. She hadn’t cast this spell in decades - hadn’t needed to, not since Ben’s betrayal.

Once she was ready, she opened her eyes again.

She stared directly into her opponent’s visor before beginning the incantation. It was a long one, unfortunately. She whispered the archaic words quietly and as fast as possible without mispronouncing them. Her opponent drew closer, dragging their sword along the ground. It wasn’t until they were nearly upon her that they noticed what she was doing, and by then it was too late.

The dark mist appeared again, but it didn’t surround them this time. It condensed behind Sabrina, forming two massive, solid shadow arms. She swiped at the air in front of her with her right arm, and the corresponding shadow arm mirrored the motion, hitting her opponent with a resounding crack and sending them hurtling into a tree which fell on impact. Another strike that would certainly have killed most, but Sabrina knew they had survived. She would actually have preferred to take them alive if possible. There were bound to be others involved in the assassination plot, and if they were anywhere near as powerful as the one before her, they absolutely had to be found and shut down.

But Sabrina couldn’t afford to hold anything back - not while Armie’s life was potentially at stake.

Before her opponent had time to get their bearings again, Sabrina summoned a shadow wolf from the same mist her additional arms were formed of. It needed no instruction, darting off at a breakneck speed towards its target. Sabrina followed, ever vigilant for any surprise Jedi tricks. When she had finally caught up, the wolf’s jaws were clamped around her opponent’s right arm. It was thrashing its head about, pulling them every which way as it did.

It would probably be her only chance to get that ridiculous helmet off of them.

Sabrina dashed towards them, conjuring two more blades and letting the shadow arms trail passively behind her. Her opponent, having sensed her approach, managed to free their arm and lifted the wolf into the air before sending it flying towards her. Sabrina ignored it as it passed through her harmlessly before dissolving. Her opponent moved to guard their midsection as she started a low sweep, but it was no more than a distraction. She thrust her right arm out much higher, jamming her sword just underneath the helmet and effectively lifting it off. They swung outward, barely catching her in the stomach. She flinched back, but not before she flung the helmet away.

Her opponent stumbled backward, face turned towards the ground as their fingers traced the gash along their jaw she must have just inflicted. Their hair was tied up at the back of their head in a loose, messy bun and appeared black under the light of the moon, though it could have been a very deep brown.

They turned to look at her, teeth bared, and their eyes met.

Shocked and in disbelief, Sabrina jumped back. It couldn’t be him. There was no possible way he could be there. Someone was masquerading as him - trying to get a rise out of her, had used a glamours spell on themselves to look just like him - but that scar. That huge scar carved into his face diagonally from just above the right eyebrow down to where it disappeared beneath his clothes: Ben didn’t have a scar like that.

Ben was dead.

Whoever it was cried out suddenly, dropping their sword and grabbing their head in their hands. They fell to their knees while Sabrina found her voice.

“...Ben? Is that you?”

His head snapped back up when she spoke, a combination of pain and confusion evident on his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, doubling over and resting his chin on the ground.

The surprise quickly wore off and was replaced by fury. Sabrina’s blood ran hot as she glared at him, considering her options as he curled up on his side, still gasping in pain. Before long, she had decided that she didn’t really care how a dead man was in front of her or why he was in so much pain. He had already threatened her Armie.

He didn’t deserve to live.

Sabrina stepped forward, crouching just in front of him where he lie on the ground making pathetic whimpering noises.

“I killed you once before. I didn’t want to, but you forced my hand. I don’t know how you’re here now, but I’m happy to do it again. I’ll do it as many times as necessary until you stay dead.”

Sabrina raised her hand, curling her fingers until they resembled claws. Her shadow arm followed suit, its fingers extending into sharp points - real claws. She prepared to deliver the final blow, one even a pureblooded dragon wouldn’t survive.

If she had been paying more attention, perhaps she would have noticed that Ben had gone quiet, that he’d stopped squirming and was looking up at her with determination, not fear. Perhaps she would have seen it coming.

Something wrapped around Sabrina’s neck, constricting it and lifting her into the air. She clawed at her throat, gasping for breath but wholly unable to breathe.

Ben stood slowly on trembling legs like a newborn foal with his hand extended towards her, palm facing up.

“I told you,” he rasped. “You’re not leaving until you. Answer. My questions.”

Sabrina’s vision began to blur and the shadow arms dissipated, leaving her utterly defenseless. Ben hobbled towards her, loosening his grip on her throat just enough for her to suck in some air before tightening it again. He stopped only when he was close enough for Sabrina to feel his breath before grabbing the sides of her face and forcing himself into her mind.

She could feel him raking through her memories. She tried desperately not to think about Armie, but even the act of not thinking about him was still thinking about him in a way. Ben latched onto that thought, using it to bring every one of her memories of Armie to the forefront of her mind. Strangely enough, he chose to start at her earliest memories first.

There was the time she first met him after wandering through the mountains. She had noticed an unusual barrier around the foot of Mt. Heresy and had moved through it, curious as to what sort of being had been imprisoned there. She found Armie near the peak in his true form, sick and emaciated. His eyes were glazed over, his scales were dull and rough to the touch, and he looked to have been tearing chunks of his own matted fur out. She couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving him there to die alone.

Countless other memories flashed before Sabrina’s eyes - Ben didn’t dwell on them for long. He did spend more time on her memories of him, however. She could even feel his confusion at seeing himself through someone else’s eyes, connected as they were.

She wanted to scream, tried to scream when he reached the memory of the time Armie went to bed with her. It was an extremely uncomfortable encounter - Sabrina knew Armie wasn’t interested in her - not that way at least - but he still wanted to try it. She should have said no, could have prevented the awkward amount of time they spent avoiding each other afterward. That was when Sabrina started to resent Ben, as Armie spent nearly every waking moment with him from then on. Every time Sabrina was with him, so was Ben. In the rare instances when Ben was busy, someone else took his place. Armie simply refused to be alone with her.

Eventually, Ben reached her memory of his betrayal.

That was when Sabrina decided she’d had enough. As soon as he released the pressure around her throat a bit, Sabrina gulped in as much air as she could. She only had one chance.

 _“Mon raieff envette ima!”_ She gasped, and then the world faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I enjoy writing fight scenes more than I thought?
> 
> Also RIP the only OC I've ever really cared about.
> 
> Chapter Warning Explanations:  
> Implied Past Major Character Death - Both Kylo and Hux are fine in the present. However, Sabrina believes she killed Ben before he was Kylo Ren. I don't explain what exactly happened in this chapter, but plan to do so later on. Keep in mind that there's reincarnation, resurrection, etc. in this universe. There won't be any real MCD here.
> 
> Implied Past Hux x Original Female Character - Kylo reads Sabrina's memories and ends up seeing something really private. It's only vaguely mentioned from Sabrina's POV, just to show how far Kylo's willing to go in order to figure out where he stands in all this. There's literally no detail about the actual event.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't expect this to update on a regular schedule...I had one, but then life hit me with like 67 curve balls and then I couldn't update for 5 months lmao
> 
> Feel free to stop by ninpotato.tumblr if you wanna, idk, scream at me or talk memes?


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